Torchwood Is Yours
by HumanTales
Summary: COMPLETE.  When Jack lands over a hundred years past where he was aiming, he has some time to fill. Why not spend it baby-sitting the Rift?  AU.  Written for the 2010 tw bigbang.
1. Game Station: 200,100

**Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Beta:** quean_of_swords

**Game Station**

It took several minutes for Jack Harkness to figure out what he was looking at when he opened his eyes. He was still on the Game Station, but instead of the three Daleks that had been there, there was now only dust. While he was trying to collect his scattered thoughts, he heard a very familiar sound—that of the TARDIS dematerializing. Panicking, he went running for the timeship, but by the time he reached it, it was gone.

He'd been left behind.

Ruthlessly suppressing the question of _why_ he'd been left behind, Jack began to search the station, looking for other survivors, supplies and dangers. What he found just left him more confused.

He found the delta wave generator the Doctor had been working on. It was finished, although it wouldn't have been able to be tuned to one species, but it had never been activated. That might have explained the fact that there was no one else alive on the station but for two things: Judging from the burn patterns, most of the dead had been killed by Daleks, and there were no Daleks anywhere on the station, living or dead. The only clue Jack could find were the piles of dust everywhere he could remember Daleks having been.

Jack had to hope that the Doctor had made a quick jump somewhere for something, maybe Rose, and would be back soon. He just had to wait. Not knowing how long he would have to wait, he found one of the empty Big Brother flats. It wasn't fully stocked, but there was enough for the day or two Jack expected to be there. So the Doctor could find him, he left a note on the delta wave generator explaining where he was.

That night, Jack couldn't force himself to do anything. He choked down something-he had no idea what-and refused to cry himself to sleep. When he woke up in the morning, the temperature was noticeably colder.

The station's main diagnostics told him why. The life support systems had been damaged and, with no one on the station to repair them, they were shutting down. Within five hours, Jack would have to be gone. Knowing that he would have to stay calm to stay alive, he sat down to make a plan.

First, where would he go? Jack thought about what he knew of the Doctor. From what he could tell, although he travelled everywhere in both space and time, he most frequently visited Great Britain in the twenty-first century. He had a choice between Cardiff for refuelling or London for Rose's home. Jack decided on Cardiff since the Doctor would have to refuel, no matter what else happened. He set his vortex manipulator for the correct coordinates and went to handle the supplies issue.

Even leaving a note, Jack had no way of knowing when the Doctor would show up. He'd heard stories from Rose about the Doctor's "driving". Great Britain in the twenty-first century was hardly the wilderness; however, Jack would be arriving with no preparation. He had to plan on needing time to set himself up. So, plan on bringing food and credit. He could find shelter with the latter and the food would help him extend that credit if need be.

Food was easy. The station had a year's worth of emergency rations for its normal occupancy; Jack took enough to keep him for a month. With luck, he wouldn't need it; that stuff tasted foul.

Credit was a little more difficult. The paper bills used in the twenty-first century weren't even available in the current time. Instead, Jack went looking for precious metals. He was able to find enough by cannibalising the non-essential systems; the thought of stealing from the dead turned his stomach. He would have done it, they didn't need it any more, but it was a last resort.

Finally, he decided to get clothing that was common in a large number of places and times. He kept the outfit he was wearing, though; he looked good in it.

By the time he was ready, almost three hours later, the station was cold enough that he'd added a jumper and a heavy coat, and wished he could find gloves. He took his original note and wrote a second one. "Doctor, I'm alive. I don't know how; I can only guess that the Daleks that shot me weren't at full power. The station is losing life support, so I will meet you in Cardiff. I've set the date for 1 September 2006; I'll wait for you where you parked the TARDIS at noon every day I can."

Taking a deep breath, Jack read it over. There was enough information for the Doctor to find him, if he wanted to. Jack signed it "Captain Jack Harkness" and affixed it to the console and activated his vortex manipulator.


	2. 1869

**1869**

Jack woke up in a filthy alley, alone. He checked his pockets and confirmed that he still had all his supplies. Now, he just had to confirm he was in twenty-first century Cardiff and set up his meeting area.

When he walked out of the alley, he realised that his coordinates had been off, but he wasn't too worried. It wasn't uncommon for coordinates to be off a bit on the longer jumps; once you were closer to the target, the jumps became more accurate. Stepping back into the alley, Jack went to reprogram his coordinates. His vortex manipulator would still boot up, but the screen went dark when he tried to access the time travel function. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that it had been a very long jump and sometimes tech took a while to boot back up. He'd give it an hour or so and try again. After all, he was a time traveller; time was his to command.

He checked his clothes, but they were nondescript enough that he didn't think he'd stick out. He had his blaster; he'd be fine. First step, find out where and when he was.

A young boy was selling papers on a corner; Jack was able to get a glimpse of the front page. The _Western Mail_, with a date of 27 October, 1869. Good, for a jump of nearly two hundred thousand years, he wasn't that far off. Next, he found a shop where he could change a small piece of gold for currency, a lot more currency than he'd expected. It was enough to get him a room for as long as he would need and then some. On his way to find a room, he picked up some food and whiskey from a market. He closed the door and started working on his vortex manipulator.

He'd been telling himself that he wasn't in that much trouble. Now that he could take a proper look at the vortex manipulator, he knew that he was in trouble and he had no way to get out of it. Both the time travel and teleport functions were burned out. Jack was good at fixing equipment-he'd enjoyed it ever since he was a boy—but this was beyond his abilities. He was stuck. If the Doctor didn't go back for him and didn't try to find him when he didn't show up immediately in Cardiff, he would be spending the rest of his life in the nineteenth century.

Admitting that to himself took the last emotional energy he had. Jack had enough resources, fortunately, to set himself up to live comfortably, but he'd start on that tomorrow. For now, he set the food he'd bought aside, pulled the whiskey towards him and proceeded to get thoroughly drunk.

The next day, using techniques he'd been taught by the Time Agency and had used before both when working for them and afterwards, Captain Jack Harkness began setting himself up for survival. It wasn't impossible that the Doctor would come here, but Jack knew it was highly unlikely—at least in a time and place where he could find the Time Lord. So, he settled in, creating a quiet, private life for himself, one that would attract no attention. He knew he'd get bored of it eventually, but he could reconnoitre and find a good situation for himself in the meantime. The easiest thing to do would have been to join the military. He'd been a soldier for almost all of his life; it seemed that it would be a natural fit. He found, however, that the idea made him cringe. No more taking orders; he'd had enough of that.

When Jack heard that Charles Dickens was going to read on Christmas Eve, he knew he had to go. Even in his time, _The Christmas Carol_ was an archetypal story that was used as inspiration; to hear the original read by the author? It would have taken a far better man than Jack to resist it.

When people started screaming, Jack started looking around for trouble. When he saw the Doctor, he turned away and started fading back, making himself as invisible as he could. He'd forgotten, but Rose had told him this story. She'd been as excited as he was to hear Dickens, but it meant he couldn't approach them now. He was too much the Time Agent to cross timelines like that, no matter how tempting it was. He slipped out of the theatre, went back to his hotel, and drank himself to sleep.

Waking on Christmas Day, 1869, Jack wondered how long it would be before he'd see the Doctor and Rose again. Knowing it was futile, he ran the diagnostics on the teleport and vortex manipulator again. As he'd thought, the teleport and vortex manipulator were still fried; unless another friendly time-traveller showed up, he was stuck. However, the scanners were showing the residual energy of a more current rift event. Couldn't be the Gelth; Jack knew they were dead. Although . . .

Throwing water on his face, Jack threw on clothes and started tracking. He had to be careful—his wrist strap computer was centuries more advanced than anything local—but he was able to track the energy to its source. Not, as he'd expected, at the funeral parlour where the Gelth had been, but several blocks away.

There in the middle of the street, was a Morinian mine. Jack's blood ran cold; if it exploded, it could take out a significant part of the planet. And one of the local policemen was poking at it. Jack took a deep breath and approached the other man.

"What is that thing?" he asked, wondering what kind of answer he'd get.

"Don't know," came the unsurprising reply. "We get odd things like this appearing now and again. No one knows why and who'd come to Cardiff to investigate."

"Me," Jack said without thinking. The policeman straightened up and looked at him. "Captain Jack Harkness," he said, holding out his hand. "Now, this little beauty is a mine. If we're not careful, well, we won't have to worry about it."

The policeman jumped back at that, his eyes grown huge. "Who sent you?" he asked, his voice hushed.

"Tell you what," Jack said. "If you figure it out, would you let me know?" He carefully picked up the mine, noticed that it was live and carefully disarmed it. Then he sighed. "So, you get a lot of this stuff."

"Sometimes," the policeman said. Then he shook his head. "Wait a minute. Who did you say you were?"

"Captain Jack Harkness," Jack said, holding out his hand to be shaken, again. "Who would I talk to about setting something a little more official up? And what is your name?" The policeman was pretty attractive, in a rough-hewn way. About average height, he had black hair and hazel green eyes.

"Officer Richard Lloyd," he said. "And no one official will talk with you; they just look down their noses at us. 'Superstitious Taffys' is the nicest thing they say."

"Well, Officer Lloyd," Jack said, slinging his arm around the policeman, "they're going to be calling you much nicer things if I have anything to say about it. It's for certain that you've been helping to protect this city from far worse than robbers and ruffians."


	3. 1870

**1870**

After spending an hour talking to the town officials, Jack knew that convincing them that the Rift was real would take a long time, more time than he was willing to spend on it. In fact, if he hadn't backed off when he did, he might have had to break out of the local version of psychiatric hospital. Not something he wanted to do. On the other hand, most of the regular policemen knew that there was something "different" about Cardiff. So Jack abandoned the town officials; he didn't really need them and it would be easier to work without their interference. By New Year's Day, he'd talked to each of the policemen who walked the streets of Cardiff, describing the Rift and explaining what to do with the most common "gifts" that came through it.

Fortunately, Jack had brought enough valuables to set himself up very nicely and his investments were doing well, so he had the money to set up what he needed to do, what he wanted to do, right. He bought an unused warehouse and set up a research lab, containment cells, and a little flat in a back corner. He subscribed to every scientific journal in England and Wales so that he'd know what technology was contemporaneous and what wasn't, and then went to work building the tools he needed to monitor and control the Rift. He was having fun doing something good. He'd wanted to be a physicist when he was a boy; now, he got to do it and protect people at the same time. He'd always understood the attraction of the Doctor's peripatetic lifestyle, but he thought the Time Lord was missing something by not having a base and a group of people who knew him.

Jack had visited Victorian England a couple of times, but he had always been part of an official Agency mission and he'd never been on his own. He discovered that finding someone to sleep with wasn't easy, unless he was willing to actually get married. Sex wasn't any more difficult to find than anywhere else, especially since he didn't mind paying for it. Paying a prostitute, as long as they weren't diseased, was the simplest way to get laid. He wasn't ready for any real relationship. However, Victorian prostitutes, or anyone else for that matter, weren't interested in sleeping together. Jack enjoyed sex as much as anyone else, but he hated sleeping in an empty bed.

Still, sex was definitely better than nothing, so Jack had found where the professionals worked. The idea that prostitution was shameful, that it left the women contaminated and unclean, was far out of his worldview, but it wasn't the first time he'd run into it.

He had almost as much of his attention on where he was walking, trying to keep his boots from getting too filthy, as he was on the people around him. He saw one girl, she couldn't have been out of her teens, with a baby in her arms. Seeing Jack, she walked over. "For the baby?" she asked, her hand out.

Neither she nor the baby were clean, but the baby looked well fed and healthy. The girl, on the other hand, looked as if she would fall over any second. Jack tried to think of a polite way to ask, but wound up saying bluntly, "How on earth are you surviving?"

The question brought a little colour to her cheeks as she looked down. "However I can, sir. What would you like?"

Before he'd met the Doctor, it had been a long time since Jack had really cared about anyone's welfare but his own. Then, he would have had no compunction about having sex with the girl, with the baby bedded down safe nearby. Now . . . "When did you eat last?"

"I had breakfast, sir," she said.

It was near midnight, and Jack would bet that 'breakfast' had been a slice of bread, or a bowl of thin gruel. He sighed. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Sarah," she said, her voice getting quieter.

"Is anyone waiting for you?" Jack asked. He didn't want worried family coming after him. When she shook her head, he put his finger under her chin and lifted it so he could see her face. "I was about to have something to eat. Why don't you join me and we can discuss arrangements while we eat?"

Her eyes went huge as she stepped away. "No, please," she said, looking behind her, where there was only a dead end. "Please, don't, sir," she whimpered, starting to cry.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Jack said. "I just, you remind me of someone, someone who—" No, not going to think of that. "Look, Na-Sarah, I just wanted to get some food into you. Get you and the baby into the warm for a bit." Plastering a smile on his face that he hoped didn't look too frightening, he said, "I don't like eating alone."

Her eyes still frightened, Sarah said, "Toff like you shouldn't have any trouble finding someone to eat with him. Don't need someone like me."

"True," Jack agreed, "except that those people want me to be like them. People like you are usually willing to just let be."

Jack didn't know if she was really reassured, or if the temptation of food and warmth was too much, but Sarah nodded. "For that, I get a pound."

It was hard keeping the pity off his face, Jack had hundreds of pounds in his wallet, but he understood pride. Oh, how well he understood pride. "Not a problem. You'll have your pound and a meal. It's this way."

There wasn't much in Jack's little flat. "Hope stew's all right," he said, as he heated it up. Sarah nodded mutely.

The baby picked then to announce its hunger. Sarah bit her lip. "Go ahead," Jack said. "It won't bother me."

"He's not mine," she said. "'S my nephew. Can I give him some broth?"

"Sure," Jack answered. "Is that good for him?"

Sarah shrugged. "M'sister's new man finally kicked us out this morning. Said he wasn't paying for another man's get. Knew it was just a matter of time, but I didn't think he'd kick Mattie out, too."

Mattie seemed to have a good appetite, but Sarah just picked at her food. "Come on, now," Jack urged her. "Can't waste good food."

"Sorry," she said, starting to actually eat. "What, what are you going to want?"

"Have you ever done this before?" Jack asked. Her scared look gave him the answer. "Do you want to?"

"Don't want your charity," Sarah said, starting to push her stew away.

"It's not charity," Jack said, pushing it back. "Look, when I was probably about your age, I left home. I'd have been in real trouble if some people hadn't helped me out. I can't pay it back to them, so let me pass it on to you."

"Why'd you leave?" Her voice was so quiet Jack almost couldn't hear it.

He sighed. "I went to fight in a war. Not one of my best ideas."

"You've done all right for yourself."

"Lots of luck," Jack said, smiling, "and a bit of help from some good people." Of course, he'd also done what Sarah was trying, but it had been in very different circumstances; he'd been lucky. He looked around his flat. "Can you clean and cook?"

Her head came up. "Of course," she said.

"I don't have the time or the inclination to clean up after myself," Jack said, liking the idea more as he thought about it. "In fact, you could help me keep the whole warehouse in some kind of order. I can expand this a bit, make another room for you and Mattie. I'll find out what wages are reasonable," and knowing this society, double or triple them. "How's that sound?"

"I thought you'd want your bed warm as well?" Sarah asked.

Jack was pleased that she didn't seem frightened any more. He smiled at her. "I'll admit I hate to sleep alone, but I know what it means for a young lady like yourself to be . . ." He let the sentence trail off.

Sarah snorted. "I'm not a lady," she said, with laughter in her voice. "If you want a bed warmer, and you'll keep Mattie and me, I'm good."

"I'm not sure I am," Jack said, surprised at himself. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't see Sarah as an adult. She was just a child and, while he was many things he wasn't proud of, he wasn't a paedophile. "No offence, but it'd feel like sleeping with my baby sister."

Looking over at Mattie, Sarah asked, "Can I sleep in here for tonight?"

Jack looked around his little kitchen. It was serviceable, but there were no windows, the floor wasn't especially clean, and it was just dismal. "If you don't mind, we can share the bed," he offered. "It's more than big enough for all three of us." When Sarah nodded, he smiled. "I can even provide a bath for you."

When Jack woke up screaming in the middle of the night from a nightmare starring Daleks, he was more reassured than he could believe to have little Mattie to walk back to sleep, with Sarah making both of them tea.

Not only was she a more creative cook than Jack, and determined to wipe out every bit of dirt that made its way into the warehouse, much less his flat, but Sarah was also more than willing to help out in the lab. She was bright as well, picking up the concepts quickly. If he had to be stuck in a primitive time on one planet, Victorian England with a little sister and baby brother wasn't such a bad place to be.


	4. 1871

**1871**

It was February when a Blowfish came through the Rift. Jack groaned; the ones he'd met or heard about were thieves and troublemakers. The last thing he needed was one of them in Cardiff.

Fortunately, the alien was one of the stupider ones. Instead of trying to avoid Jack, it sat down to a nice meal, which Jack doubted it would consider paying for. It saw Jack before he could catch it, and went racing off; Jack following while throwing enough bills to cover the meal. The Blowfish would have picked one of his favourite restaurants.

Jack wasn't surprised went it headed toward the Bay. Although they mostly lived on land, the Blowfish were still comfortable in the water. When it dived in, Jack followed. He'd always been a strong swimmer and didn't foresee any problems. He hadn't counted on the combination of the cold water, his clothes weighing a lot more than his uniforms ever had, and the Blowfish actively fighting him. Slowly losing the ability to keep afloat, Jack kept struggling toward the surface and trying to swim back to shore, but he finally couldn't help breathing in the water and watching the world go dark.

He came to feeling someone going through his pockets. He pushed aside his shock at still being alive to roll over and see who it was. A skinny man, probably still in his teens and looking like he hadn't had a good meal in forever. He'd jumped back when Jack rolled over and looked like he was about to run in terror. Jack hadn't the heart to hassle him, knowing that, in the kid's position, he would have done the same.

"What's your name, kid?" Jack asked, checking his pockets. The only thing missing was his gun and he was pretty sure that was at the bottom of the bay.

"P-p-p-percy M-m-m-organ, sir," the kid said, his brown eyes huge. "You were dead, mister."

"Can't have been," Jack said, with his best conman smile. "If I'd been dead, I wouldn't be sitting up now, would I?"

Morgan shook his head, still looking like he wanted to run.

"Right, so this is just a misunderstanding. How many people are you planning to tell about our misunderstanding?" Jack let just a hint of threat into his voice. He wanted to keep the kid quiet, not scare him witless.

"No one," was the answer. "They'd just call me names."

Jack pulled out his wallet. The notes were soggy, but they were still usable. Handing Morgan what was probably a month's wages for him, Jack said, "Here's a 'Thank you' for pulling me out of the Bay. I was having a pretty hard time of it there, so you probably saved my life. And, if I can ever help you out, let me know. Captain Jack Harkness—"

"You run the Warehouse?" Morgan asked, his eyes even wider.

Jack nodded. "How d'you know about it?"

"All of us at the docks know," Morgan said. "Anything strange, the Captain at the Warehouse'll help you out. My uncle reckons you're an angel, come to help us in our time of need, with all the uncanny things happening, but my tad says you're just a man." The kid acted like he expected Jack to answer him.

Jack had dug one, count 'em one, explosive out of the Bay and relocated an Akan family that was eating the local fishing boats. "You've heard of me?" he asked.

"Oh, sure," the kid said, sounding much more relaxed. "Everyone has. Is there some kind of trouble? I can help you; I'd be glad to do it. Not much good at anything else," he muttered.

"Hey," Jack said. "I'm sure you're going to be a big help." As the kid's face lit up, Jack tried to think of something he could help with. "Er, did you see a, well, it'd look like a fish in a fancy suit, out there?"

Shaking his head, the kid seemed to remember that Jack was soaking wet. "Here, let's get you inside and into some dry clothes. I think my tad's got extras—"

"Not necessary, but thanks," Jack said. "I'd like to get home, to be honest. Can you help me get a cab?" How he'd find a cab here was beyond Jack, but it was worth a try.

Morgan snorted. "What'd they be doing down here? Nah, I'll borrow m'tad's wagon. D'you mind?"

Jack shook his head. He already smelled like fish.

It wasn't as simple as that, of course. First, they had to go to Morgan's house, which had Morgan's mother. She fussed over Jack and insisted he change into Evan's, her husband's, spare clothes so he wouldn't catch a chill, and added a warm brick to the wagon. "Evan'll be happy Percy was able to help," she told Jack. "We're all grateful to you, Captain, for keeping us safe." To Jack's bemusement, she tucked him warmly into the wagon and gave Percy strict instructions as to how to treat Jack back at the Warehouse.

Of course, once they got back to the Warehouse, it wasn't only Percy Morgan who had to be convinced that he didn't need to be tucked into bed. "You're Evan and Gwyneth's youngest?" Sarah asked, as she insisted on stripping Jack out of his borrowed clothes. "I'll have these returned to you tomorrow; I'll just wash them out. What was you doing in the Bay? In February?" Sarah was wrapping a hot brick into a sheet to put into the bed where Jack had no intention of going in the middle of the afternoon.

"It was a Blowfish," he told her.

"Oh," Sarah said. "Well, what made you think you could catch a fish by chasing it in the water and where do you think you're going?"

Jack started to argue, but got a look at the set of Sarah's face. "I'm fine," he insisted as he climbed into bed. "There's hours left in the day."

"There'll be more days if you take of yourself now," Sarah insisted. "And what do you think you're doing?"

This last was aimed at Percy, who was almost compulsively tidying everything in his path. "Sorry," he said, his cheeks going pink. "Just like things orderly."

"Like research results," she asked, her face lighting. Sarah loved working with Jack in the lab, but she hated doing paperwork, on either their research or Jack's activities. She wasn't fond of housework, but insisted that someone had to do it, and she didn't trust either Jack or little Mattie.

Which actually wasn't such a bad idea. Jack wasn't any fonder of paperwork, but he understood why it needed to be done. "How's your letters and numbers?" he asked. The illiteracy common in the poor had shocked him.

"I like reading and figuring," Percy said, staring at the floor.

"Are you tidy with papers?" Sarah asked. Jack shot her an amused look. Was she interested in Percy?

When Percy nodded, Jack said, "Y'know, I could really use someone around to help me keep things in order."

"Like what?" Percy asked, his eyes alight. "I know lots of people; I'll wager I know just who you need."

"I'm sure you do," Jack answered with a smile. "Want the job?"

Percy's eyes grew wide, but Jack was eventually able to convince him that, yes, Jack really did mean to hire the youngest son of a poor fisherman. In all the confusion, Jack was able to push the mystery of how he'd survived drowning out of his mind, but the fresh fish dinners Percy's mother sent were almost as good as Percy's organisational abilities. He would have been wasted as a fisherman, Jack thought, but he made a near-perfect aide.

Towards the end of March, Jack announced that he was taking a trip to London. "Can you two take care of things here," he asked Sarah, "or should I let the police know they're on their own?"

"Me," Mattie said, reaching up to Jack.

Jack smiled as he swooped him up into the air. "I'll bet you're gonna be a great help at keeping Sarah and Percy in line, little guy," he said, tickling the toddler's tummy. "But I don't think you're ready to fight Blowfish yet."

Mattie blew a raspberry as Sarah reached up for him. "You behave yourself," she told her nephew firmly. "Why are you going?"

"The Royal Albert Hall will be opening," Jack told her. "Rose used to talk about these Proms that were held there, and I wanted to see it."

Sarah's smile was kind, and she pointedly didn't say anything about Jack feeling closer to Rose. "Why don't you take Percy?" she asked. When Jack looked puzzled, she said, "When you're courting someone, you do things you like together. Sounds like this is just the thing."

"I don't think Percy would take to my courting him," Jack said, shaking his head. "And I suspect his family would have a lot to say about it, too."

Shrugging, Sarah said, "As long as you keep treating him respectfully, I don't think they'll care too much. There used to be talk about him, but working for you's killed it. You couldn't make it public, but you're pretty quiet about things. And before you ask, Percy's been mooning after you since he started here." Before Jack could say anything, she continued, "I'll talk to Richard and let him know you're taking Percy to London for special supplies. He gets better prices than you so no one'll think a thing about it." Matters settled, she took Mattie to wash his hands.

Jack looked after her, wondering if the Doctor had ever had his life managed so thoroughly. Then he laughed. Of course, he had. He'd had Rose.

Two weeks later, after several long days of shopping in London, Jack stopped walking into the Royal Albert Hall when he realised that Percy was no longer beside him. Turning, he saw the younger man standing where he had stepped out of the carriage, looking at the building with an expression of horror. Jack walked back to him. "What's wrong, Perce?" he asked.

"I'm just a poor fisherman," Percy said, his voice no more than a whisper. "I don't belong there."

"First," Jack said quietly, pulling the younger man out of the traffic, "no one here can tell you're anything but a young man of quality." When Percy started to argue, Jack said over him, "Welsh, of course, but anyone who can't enjoy those beautiful vowels is deaf."

Percy smiled faintly. "But I don't belong."

"Do you know why I wanted to come here so badly?" Jack asked. When Percy shook his head, Jack continued, "A woman I travelled with, from the future, the twenty-first century, told me about coming here every year for a series of concerts. She lived with her mum, just the two of them, in a housing estate, which is where people without a lot of money lived. She was a shop girl, but every year, she and her friends would come to the Proms that they had at the grand, prestigious Royal Albert Hall. I wish you could meet her, because she'd tell you that you belong anywhere you want to belong, and no one here has any right to tell you otherwise." Wishing he could take Percy's hand, Jack continued, "Come on, you'll be starting the tradition that the Royal Albert Hall belongs to all the people of the United Kingdom."

Wide-eyed, Percy followed Jack to their seats. Fascinated with actually seeing Queen Victoria, the emblem of sexual repression, in the flesh, Jack found himself disappointed with the acoustics of the hall. When he leaned over to remark on the echo to Percy, though, he stopped, and finally realised why Odine had enjoyed his company so much. Settling back in his seat, Jack relaxed to enjoy the music, lousy acoustics and all.

After a good late-night supper, Jack brought Percy back to the hotel. "I wish I could tell Rose about tonight," he said wistfully. "She'd have enjoyed hearing about it."

"I hope I was an adequate substitute," Percy said in a quiet voice.

"You're not a substitute at all," Jack told him with a smile. "In fact, thank you. I enjoyed the evening much more because of you." When Percy looked puzzled, Jack said, "To you, it was all fresh and beautiful. By letting me share tonight with you, it was for me as well. And I cherish anything fresh and beautiful."

"Even me?" Percy asked, looking up at Jack through his eyelashes.

Stroking his hand down Percy's face, Jack thanked whatever Fate that had abandoned him here, with beautiful boys and lovely girls. Music wasn't the only thing fresh and beautiful he experienced through Percy that night.

It took over two more months before Jack smiled down at his new weapons. His blaster had been lost over a year ago when it fallen under a horse's hooves during a fight and, although the local revolvers weren't bad, Jack missed the ability to fire repeated shots. If he'd remembered correctly, and he and Sarah had built them correctly, he now had a repeating air gun and cross bow. "Okay, kids," he said, grinning, "now we get to see if this works. Sarah, where's Mattie?"

"Down for his nap," Sarah said. "He's in his box."

Jack smiled. The 'box' was a large cube, with slats in the sides that allowed whoever was looking after the baby to check on them, but the baby couldn't get out. The sides were too high for the curious little boy, who was into everything he could manage and quite a bit that neither Jack, Sarah nor Percy could figure out. "Some babes are like that," Glynnis Morgan, one of Percy's sisters-in-law, had said when Jack had asked her at Sunday dinner. "They have to get into everything."

"Good. Let's hope he stays asleep." Because if he knew that the adults were working in the lab, he'd want to be right in the middle of it. Jack had already started looking into how engineers were trained in this time, and how he could supplement that training. "You two need to put these on." Jack handed Sarah and Percy each a pair of the goggles he'd had made and put on his own.

Percy tried to keep from laughing at the picture Sarah made, while Sarah didn't bother. "Why are we wearing these mad things?" she giggled.

"So if a projectile goes wild," Jack explained, "it doesn't poke our eyes out. I'm using peas, so I'm not worried about them really hurting us, but you never know."

The airgun worked even better than Jack had hoped and, even better, Sarah was a decent shot to start with. "Here come's the next one," Jack said as he put the air gun away. "Put the coats and hats on." They were heavy leather, as close to leather armour as Jack could manage in something that didn't look like armour. "These aren't sharp, but they could cause some damage if they hit us."

The crossbow didn't work quite as well as Jack had hoped, but he already had plans for improvement. So did Sarah, who was dictating her ideas to Percy. Sarah turned out to be the best shot of the three of them; all of her arrows hit the target. Percy, on the other hand, was hopeless. After the third try, when he once again shot arrows into everything but the target, he set it down. "I'll reload," he said. "I'm good at that."

"I'm just glad Jack thought to get us the coats," Sarah said, "even if they are heavy as sin." Jack was, too. Percy had managed to hit Sarah twice, once when he'd lost control of the crossbow and once, somehow, with a ricochet.

"Yeah, Percy, you're our reloader," Jack said.

Jack had been worried about how well his new weapons would work on Blowfish. Most of them would just leave when threatened, but some were more belligerent and wouldn't listen to reason. Unfortunately, the second group also tended to be armed and very dangerous. Fortunately, both the air gun and the crossbow worked very well on them.


	5. 1872

**187****2**

It took over a year of sex before Percy would consider spending the night with Jack. "What will people think?"

"Percy," Jack said with a sigh, watching his lover pull his clothes on, "it's the middle of the night. You spend the night here plenty of times; no one cares."

"I spend the night in the main room," Percy said, looking for a stray sock, "on nights when we've been run ragged."

"Who knows?" Jack asked. "Even your mother comes here to look for you, no matter the hour. No one goes to your rooms; you're here most of the time."

Percy sat down on the bed, swallowing hard. "Sarah would know," he said quietly. "So would little Mattie, and he'd ask."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Sarah would throw a party and bake a cake," he said. "Mattie would help; he's always asking after you when he wakes up in the night. Please, just stay." He gave his young lover his best seductive smile. "You know you want to."

Closing his eyes, Percy sat down. "You're certain Sarah won't be upset?"

Smiling in triumph, Jack started removing Percy's clothes. "Positive."

Jack didn't know how long he'd been asleep when he felt a tug on his hand. "Want in bed," Mattie said.

Looking down at the little boy, Jack smiled. "What's wrong?"

"Bad dreams," the little boy said. "Up."

Jack glanced at the clock; he'd only been asleep an hour or so. Grabbing Mattie by the waist, he hauled him up into the bed.

When he saw Percy, Mattie grinned and took a deep breath. Jack put his hand over the boy's mouth. "Don't wake him up," he whispered. "He needs his sleep."

"Yes, sir," Mattie said in a little-boy whisper. Jack didn't think it could be heard for more than a couple of blocks. "Percy stayed," he crowed.

"Yes, but he won't want to again if you wake him up," Jack said, tucking the child into the bed between the two men. "Go to sleep."

Already halfway back to sleep, Mattie nodded and smiled.

Some time later, Jack was woken by Sarah hissing, "Budge over, you."

"Oh," Percy said, "I'll leave."

"Stop it," Sarah said, sounding irritated. "Just move over so I can get in."

"No," Percy said, stiffly. "I'm too much a gentleman to leave you on the edge; you can climb over me. Or I'll get up—"

"Stay," Sarah ordered. Jack kept his eyes closed and his breathing even while the bed bounced around for a few minutes. Mattie started grumbling, but Sarah murmured to him and the little boy went back to sleep.

After the bed had stopped moving, Percy said, "I thought you'd be upset. Wait a tick, when did Mattie get into the bed?"

"Why would I be upset?"

"Most people reckon you're Jack's mistress," Percy said. "I'm not taking him away from you; I'm just a bit of fun."

Jack bit his lip to keep from snapping. Percy was much more than a 'bit of fun', and Sarah was in no way his mistress. Except that she'd been running his household for the last couple of years.

Sarah's response was all he could have asked for. "I'm not his mistress," she said firmly, "and, no matter what people think, Mattie's not his."

"Is he really your nephew?" The question sounded as if Percy had wanted to ask it for a long time.

"No," said Sarah, snorting. "Jack's the only one who believes that." Well, no, even Jack didn't believe it. He'd found the bastard who'd raped her as well, and had exacted what he considered appropriate vengeance. Yet another thing he hated about this time; that a rich toff would be believed before a young poor girl. "He thinks I'm sweet and innocent." And she was, no matter what she'd lived through.

"Clearly deluded. Innocent you may be, but you're certainly not sweet."

The bed moved around for a few minutes; Jack thought they might be tickling each other or something. After it had stilled, Percy asked, "Do you and Mattie sleep here every night? Won't my being here cause trouble?"

"Stop being silly," Sarah said. Jack was pleased to hear how sure she sounded. "Wherever Jack grew up, to hear him tell it, they threw the whole family into the same bed. I don't know if he's telling the truth or not, but he hates sleeping alone. It's nice," she said, her voice a little tentative. "You don't mind, do you? I mean, I know you and Jack are . . ."

"It's nice," Percy said, sounding surprised. "Best go back to sleep; morning comes early."

"Too right you are," Sarah mumbled as she got comfortable. It took a few more minutes, but the other two finally settled down.

Jack fell asleep again, smiling. The bed finally felt right.

"Be careful," Sarah said as Jack walked into the Warehouse after meeting with his banker. "Percy's on the rampage."

Jack stopped and ran over his activities since Percy had left the night before. He hadn't entered the archives at all, which was what usually sent his aide and archivist into fits of fury. All of his paperwork had been put into the right places. He thought so, anyway. Deciding it was best to get it over with, Jack called out, "What have I done this time?"

"This," Percy said, holding the set of boxes Jack and Sarah were supposed to sort their paperwork into. They were in pieces, wood mixed in with paper. It was a spectacular mess and Percy's expression reflected exactly how much extra work it was causing.

"Not me," Jack said, raising his hands. "They were where they belonged, in one piece, when I locked up last night."

Percy took a deep breath and shook his head. "No, it's no one's fault. There was an extra large Rift spike last night," which Jack knew, because he'd been chasing four Sontaran bombs and a Hoix for most of the night. "The scanner couldn't handle it and," Percy paused, biting his lip. "Saying it blew up is a slight exaggeration, but—"

"It blew up," Sarah said, rolling her eyes.

"And, judging from the evidence, it landed on the filing boxes," Jack said, nodding.

"You know your air gun?" Percy asked. Before Jack could make the expected comment, he continued with, "Ladies present. The same principle could move the papers from your desk down to the storage area. Put the paper in the box, where it will shoot the paper into the related box in the archive. Then I can file it without worrying about exploding scanners."

Sighing, Jack tried to remember what he knew about pneumatics. With the exception of guns, he'd never really paid attention to it, but he knew it had been used. "Can you create it?"

"Er, I was hoping Sarah would. Or you," Percy said.

Even as Sarah's eyes lit up and nodded, Jack shook his head. "Nope. You're going to do it. And Sarah doesn't get to help, because then she'll do the whole thing for you. I'll come up with another project for you, sweetheart," he said to the now-pouting Sarah. "You can ask me if you get stuck, but I want you to do it."

Both Sarah and Percy groaned. Jack gave it a week. If Percy hadn't made significant progress in a week, he'd give it to Sarah, who'd probably finish it within the day.

It took Percy six days to finish, and looked a whole lot nicer than if Sarah had done it. "See," Jack said, "Told you."

"Yeah," Sarah said, "but he had to take two of the air guns apart to do it."

"What?" Jack shouted.

Jack came to with a gasp, knocking his head into Percy's. "Captain," Percy said, his face unusually serious, "we have to discuss this. It's been three times now—"

"Four," Jack said wearily.

"So, you already knew?" Percy asked, trying to cover the hurt.

"I explained it away," Jack said as he sat up. Looking down, he sighed. It wasn't just the shirt that was destroyed; the coat was as well. "Thought their weapons had been drained or something. Then, I managed to convince myself that I wasn't really drowned."

"I believed you," Percy said. "But you should have been hurt if not killed by that fall and this . . . No man gets up after taking a dozen bullets in the chest and belly."

"I was killed in the fall," Jack said, admitting out loud what he'd been suspecting and trying to suppress for months now.

"So, you are an angel."

Jack looked up, about to snap at Percy for teasing a man when he was down, when he realised that Percy wasn't teasing. "Percy, I'm no angel. You know that better than anyone."

"Angels aren't God," Percy said, no doubt in his face. "I s'pose an angel could be guilty of sin. Lucifer was thrown out of Heaven for the sin of pride. The sin of lust might just lose you your memory."

Jack groaned. Percy was shaping up to be a decent field agent, and he was already a superb assistant and lover, but once he made a decision, there was no moving him. From his tone of voice, Jack knew that Percy had already considered all the evidence and objections and had his own interpretation of events. "Can we maybe leave angels out of this?" he asked. "I'll admit that I'm not from Earth; can't that be good enough?"

"Don't worry," Percy said, the patronising tone in his voice setting Jack's teeth on edge. "Mam'll still make you her fish stew; you're family in everything but name."

"Morgan," someone called from outside the alley, "is the Captain up yet?"

"Do we know what we're facing yet?" Jack called out. At least it was one of the constables he knew.

"Thieves and procurers," Lloyd said as he walked into the alley. "Sweet Jesus, did they hit you? Morgan said you dove out of the way and hit your head."

"Bit of a scratch, it just bled like mad," Jack answered as he looked down at himself. "Why did they call us in?"

Lloyd shrugged. "You caught them, didn't you?" He walked over to help Percy help Jack stand up.

"Look," Jack said, wavering between anger and pride, "there's only three of us." Before Lloyd could make his standard objection, Jack snapped, "And, yes, Sarah counts; she's a better field op than most of your men. Still, you lot can't be calling us in for everything. Just the weird stuff, or I'm gonna stop answering."

"I'll make sure they know," Lloyd said.

Two days later, Percy brought a very young policeman along with Jack's morning coffee and newspaper. "Captain, this here is Officer Thomas Rees. They've sent him along to work with us." Rees was tall, slender but broad-shouldered, with blond hair, hazel eyes, and a thin white scar running the length of his face near his left ear.

"Official Warehouse Liaison," Rees said, his voice cracking just a bit. He was standing stiffly at attention, but at least he wasn't terrified.

Jack looked at the young man, who was probably even younger than Percy, and sighed. "Give him the tour; we'll start training tomorrow." How had keeping out of trouble while waiting and hoping the Doctor came to visit late-nineteenth-century Cardiff become baby-sitting the Rift and collecting a bunch of young Victorian alien-hunters? He set his coffee and newspaper down and bent back over his latest try at a Rift-energy detector. "If they really loved me," he shouted, "they'd've sent me a physicist. Or an engineer."

"Why would a physicist or engineer want to come to Cardiff?" Percy shouted back, well-used to Jack's complaints.

"To study the Rift," Jack said, throwing his arms wide to indicate the glorious wonders of the Rift. Unfortunately, he wasn't paying attention and knocked the coffee cup to the floor.

"You're cleaning that up," Sarah said as she walked into the room, Mattie's hand in hers. Rees watched the interplay wide-eyed. Jack gave him three days to lose the shock.

It took eighteen hours and another damned Blowfish.


	6. 1873

**1****873**

"There's so many people here," Hugh Morgan said to Jack as they stood in the Morgan's back garden. "Tad and Mam are that proud of him." He stared down into his drink. "Did he know?"

Jack nodded, swallowing his own tears down. "He told me once that he'd always been the odd one out in the family. Not the black sheep, just never quite fit in. He said the best thing about working for me was that not quite fitting in became a blessing. He wanted—" Jack's throat closed up.

"Glynnis is due next month," Hugh said. "If it's a boy, he'll be Percy Jack. Do you think he'd've liked that?"

Jack nodded, his face working. "Yeah," he finally rasped out, "he'd have been so proud, his head wouldn't have fit through the door."

"Tommy's taking it hard," Hugh pointed out. "The poor lad can hardly move for how hurt he is. You and Sarah'll be taking care of him, yeah?"

Jack nodded and took a deep breath "We really need a doctor. I don't think Percy could have been saved," he swallowed, "but . . ."

"Would you take a woman?" Hugh asked.

Jack's gaze snapped up to Hugh's face from his drink. "Do they allow women to be doctors here?"

"I don't know about allowing it," Hugh said, shrugging, "but a school friend of Mary's helped her father out before he died and he put her through the whole course as if she were reading to be a doctor. No one with money'd ever go to her, but she's a real blessing down here."

"I wouldn't want to pull someone like that away from you," Jack said. It gave him an idea though. He had no problems with a woman being a doctor; enough of them had treated him in his life before and he'd never given it a second thought.

"Well, no," Hugh said, "don't think she'd want to work for you anyway. She's one of us, but she has this friend. Same kind of training, but her tad worked with rich people. None of them will give her the time of day, but I thought you mightn't care."

"Send her to me," Jack said. "I'll see how she does with Tommy; that'll be her entrance exam. Warn her, though, that it won't be safe."

Hugh glanced toward the house, where his brother's wake showed no signs of stopping. Percy and Tom had been hit by something that had come through the Rift. Jack didn't even know what it was; his two agents were supposed to be gathering information while Jack tracked it. It had been smarter than any of them had realised and had aimed straight for the two younger men who hadn't been enough on their guard. Even though he had to have been terrified, Percy had stood his ground, firing one shot after another into the thing and blocking its access to the unsuspecting public. One of those shots had killed it, but not before it had sliced Percy open. Tommy and Jack had tried, but they hadn't been able to stop the bleeding in time, and there hadn't been time for help to get there.

"I'll make sure she knows," Hugh said. "A hero's death still leaves the family mourning."

A week later, a young woman with flaming red hair stood at the Warehouse door. "Ellie Adams," she said when Jack opened the door. "Hugh Morgan sent me. In a roundabout way, of course. I understand you need a doctor. I can't claim to be one, of course, but I do know what I'm about."

"Maybe you can tell me why my agent can't walk," Jack said, challenging her. Tommy had just fallen and his hip had been dislocated. Jack mentally promised the long-suffering policeman a shot of his best brandy when this Ellie Adams had finished with him.

Ten minutes later, Jack was shaking her hand. "Welcome to the Warehouse, Dr. Adams."

"Not Doctor," Ellie said, firmly. "I won't use a title I'm not permitted."

Jack shrugged. "Healer Adams it is."

She crinkled her nose to stop from laughing. It had the most adorable set of freckles; Jack wondered what they'd taste like.

When he asked, he was told, quite firmly, that Ellie Adams had no use for men in her bed. Jack wished her luck, with a little sigh for what wouldn't be.

The letter was a request for Jack to meet with Arthur Briggs, the attorney for the Howard Foundation. He knew what it was about; the Howard Foundation had been created by Ira Howard as an experiment in voluntary eugenics with an aim towards increasing human lifespan. It had failed, though, early on, due to a mixture of distaste to choosing partners from a short list with love not considered, and the high number of birth defects from the small gene pool. Especially with the knowledge of his prolonged life, there was no safe way for Jack to get anywhere near the Howards. Which was a pity, since he'd always wondered what would have happened if it had succeeded. With a sigh, he threw the letter into the fireplace.

Jack stormed through the Warehouse and back to his flat. Behind him, he could hear Tom telling Sarah, "I don't know if you could call it a success." As he went to slam the door behind him, he heard Mattie squeal, "Not on me!" Looking down at the little boy, Jack asked, "Do you want to come with me and listen to me be angry?"

Mattie nodded. "Uh-huh," he said. "Missed you."

"Sarah, I have Mattie," Jack called and ushered the little boy into the flat with him. Aware of how Sarah would react if he taught Mattie about slamming doors, he closed it firmly instead. He threw his coat over a chair and dropped his valise in the little parlour and sat down, his head in his hands. So close. If he'd only been paying more attention.

"What's wrong, Uncle Jack?" Mattie asked, leaning on the arm of the chair.

Why not? "Do you know what this is?" he asked, indicating his wrist strap.

"Your special not-watch," Mattie answered.

Jack couldn't help smiling. "It's a Time Agency wrist strap," he said. "Among other things, it can sense certain energies. If you're watching for them." He scowled. "I wasn't paying enough attention, but it's been picking up on zygma energy for a while now."

"What's zyga energy?" Mattie asked, his eyes wide.

"That's zygma energy," Jack corrected. "It's what the very first working time travel devices used. And it was there in London." He felt like crying and giving up. The Doctor had been right there. He might have been too early; that was why Jack had brought Tom. But the Doctor had already been and gone; Professor Litefoot had been very certain of that.

"Is that bad?" Mattie asked.

"It could have been," Jack said. Magnus Greel in Victorian England; the thought was terrifying. At least he was dead now. "But some very good men took care of it."

"You and Tom," Mattie said, beaming.

"Not this time," Jack said.

Mattie walked away for a minute, but came right back, holding the book Jack had been reading to him before he'd left for London. "Please read?"

_Around the World in 80 Days_. Jack sighed. He could have done it in eighty minutes, when his teleporter worked. "What about Sarah?" he asked. "She's enjoying it, too."

"She can read it herself." Mattie sounded very sure.

"Yeah, but we've all been enjoying it together." Jack could feel the knots from the disappointment start to loosen.

"Tom, too," Mattie said, with an air of decision. "Come on, Uncle Jack." He grabbed Jack's hand and tried to pull him towards the door.

Jack laughed and let him.

Later, after Mattie had been put to bed, the three adults sat enjoying a brandy. "Can you explain what that was all about, now?" Tom asked, sounding a little plaintive.

"Magnus Greel was a despot from Earth in the fifty-first century," Jack said. "He'd found a way to use zygma energy to travel in time; that's what my wrist strap picked up."

"And he killed young women to get it," Tom said, scowling into his drink.

"Right. The Doctor, and the woman he's currently travelling with, stopped him," Jack finished the story.

"Isn't that the man you've been hoping to find?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah, but I think it was too early in his timeline," Jack said with a sigh. "So I couldn't have talked with him even if we'd made it there before he left."

"Why do you need to find him?" Tom asked.

"A lot of reasons," Jack said. "Why don't I stay dead, and how long will that work? Why did he leave me behind?" Can I go home now? He thought but didn't say it, not wanting to hurt the two young people.

"My tad said something before he died," Tom said, putting down the glass and picking up his coat to leave. "Don't spend so much time waiting that you forget to live. Reckon it's true even if you have more time than the rest of us."

Jack sighed. "Your father sounds wise," he said. "Give my love to your mother and sister."

Tom waved his hand as he left.


	7. 1874

**187****4**

Looking around the Warehouse, Jack knew how proud he was of his little team of alien hunters. Since Sarah spent most of her time on tech, with only the bare minimum of cleaning, the Warehouse might not look clean and tidy, but it was magnificent. Sarah on tech, Tom on muscle, Ellie on medical and Jack himself leading them and filling in the gaps. He grinned as he went to drag Mattie out of the Rift detector they were trying to create. The next generation was already in the works even as he was trying to find someone with a good scientific background who was willing to work with no recognition or publishing.

They were kept more than busy. Nearly three-quarters of the sentient beings to come through the Rift were hostile, even those Jack knew to be generally reasonable. In addition, articles that came through the Rift had little in common. Some were so far in advance of Earth's science that it was laughable while others were very primitive. Unfortunately, much of what landed in Cardiff was dangerous and had to be identified quickly, and Jack was the only one who could safely do so. At least the police had finally been trained to not touch anything strange lying around and contact the Warehouse before they blew anything up.

One evening in July, they were able to meet a being as it came through the Rift. Obviously disoriented, it saw Jack, Sarah, Tom, and Ellie, who were waiting for whatever the Rift threw out this time. It raised what Jack recognised as a weapon. "Whoa there," he said, throwing up his hands to show they were empty. "We don't want to hurt you," he continued in Galactic Standard. It was a gamble; he didn't recognize the species.

"Where am I?" it asked, also in Galactic Standard. It was shorter than any of them, and frail-looking, although Jack knew that that could be deceptive. It was generally humanoid, with bluish skin and white hair.

Jack relaxed a little. The question had been reasonable and they could communicate. "This is Earth. Judging from your weapon there, and your speech, it's a little more primitive here than you're used to. You've just been through a rift in time and space; it runs right through the town, which is Cardiff. I'm Captain Jack Harkness; this is Miss Sarah Humphries, Officer Tom Rees and Healer Ellie Adams. And you are?"

It lowered its weapon. "Earth? I don't think I've heard of it. I'm Artam, of the Deshi Cooperative. How do I go back?"

Jack shook his head. "I'm sorry; we have no way to send you back. We can take you back to our headquarters; we can try to find a way for you to make a place for yourself even if we can't do anything else."

Artam cocked its head. "Why don't your companions speak?"

"I'm the only one of us who can speak Galactic Standard," Jack said, "and we don't have any translation devices."

"What is the local language?"

"English," Jack said, hoping this meant Artam had a translator that could be tuned.

In a moment, he was rewarded when Artam began speaking English with a very high-class English accent. "Is this understandable?"

"He's a toff," muttered Tom.

"I'm female," Artam said. "What's a toff?"

Artam was pleased that there were women at the Warehouse, although Ellie confused her. "But why don't you want the proper title used?" she asked.

"Because women aren't allowed to be doctors in Britain," Ellie snapped.

Artam watched her checking over a piece of equipment they thought might be medical. "But you are a doctor," she said.

"Society hasn't quite got its head wrapped around the idea that women have brains that are every bit as good as men's," Jack said, watching the interplay between Artam and Ellie. "Yes, Ellie is capable of providing medical care every bit as good if not better than any man with the title of Doctor, but society won't accept her as a doctor. It's not right and there are women fighting to change it."

Unfortunately, Artam had been sick before she came through the Rift. She had only just realised it herself and hadn't yet gone for medical treatment. Ellie wasn't able to determine what was wrong and wasn't able to treat the alien as her condition deteriorated.

"Jack, I can't just open her up without knowing more about her species, I'll do more harm than good, but I have to know what's happening in there," Ellie said in frustration after three days of examination. Three days in which Artam got sicker and weaker. It was clear to all of them that, if they didn't find out what was wrong, or how to treat her, the alien would die.

"I know, Ellie," Jack said, feeling wretched. "I'm sorry; I only learned field treatments, not real medicines. There were always medics around for that."

Before Ellie could snap, Sarah walked over. "Jack, why don't you try talking with Artam? Most people have some idea of the problem even if they don't know the medical terms or treatments." She took Ellie's hand and led her over to the dining table. "You, sit down and tell me exactly what you need."

An hour later, Jack told Ellie that Artam didn't know much more than "My chest hurts and breathing isn't working right."

"Could be heart trouble," she said, scowling, "if her people are anything like us. Damn it. I could treat it like I would one of us, but it could kill her as well as help." Her eyes began to fill. "Have you talked with her? She's seen such things, so much beauty." She looked up at Jack. "She thinks I'm beautiful."

Jack shook his head. "Talk with her, give her the risks of treating her as human. If she's willing to risk it—"

"I'm not willing to risk her!" Ellie hissed.

Jack started to answer and then took a good look at his doctor. Oh. "Sometimes you have to," he said quietly and kissed her forehead. "Talk with her."

He found Sarah in the laboratory, working on a device, one Jack didn't recognize. "It came through the Rift," she said without looking at Jack. "I remember noticing something . . . Yes, that's got it. Here," she handed the device to Jack, "point it at me and look."

Now that she'd mentioned it, Jack remembered it, and felt like a fool. He actually knew what this was, and it was exactly what Sarah thought it was. A medical scanner. He found a menu and started looking to see if it had other species in its database.

"Oooh," Sarah said, watching over his shoulder. "You'll have to show me how it works."

"We can't use it out of the Warehouse," he told her. So, so tempting, but the timelines. "Only on us. I'll show you how to use it later. For now—"

"Ellie," Sarah shouted across the Warehouse. "We have something for you."

"And it'll work on Deshians," Jack said, smiling as he showed Ellie how to use the scanner.

The next morning, Ellie threw herself into the chair in front of Jack's desk. "I can treat her, but I can't cure her. But she'll live," she said, a smile finally breaking out on her face.

"Where is she going to live?" Jack asked. "Not only is she not human, there's no way of disguising that fact."

"She knows tech," Ellie said, a smug smile on her face. "And she can live with me." Jack watched as Ellie looked down and blushed. "Well, if she'll have me."

Jack knew the boarding house Ellie lived in. They were good people, and they took good care of Ellie, not complaining about the odd hours she kept. Her rooms weren't big enough for two people, and the other residents weren't likely to be happy with an alien living with them.

Then again, there was something he'd been thinking needed to be done. "Do you really think the other residents will go along with it?" he asked.

Ellie looked over at Artam longingly. "No, probably not," she said.

"We're getting more friendlies through the Rift," Jack said. "And, with the temporal energies I've been reading, we're likely to get people out of their time, either from the past or the future. What are they supposed to do once they're stuck here in Cardiff?"

"I suppose everyone can't be as well set up as you," Sarah said, walking over.

"My trip was intentional," Jack said. "I just missed my destination. Most of the people we get through the Rift aren't planning on going anywhere."

"So, now we're meant to make them a home?" Tom asked.

"They can live here!" Mattie said, a big smile on his face as he poked his head into the Rift detector.

"Get out of there!" Jack and Sarah chorused while Artam moved to pull the little boy out of harm's way.

"I don't think I can take any more civilians here," Jack said, shaking his head. "But why can't we help them? Show them around, explain how things work, give them a leg up. What we need, though, is a, a—"

"An enclave," Artam said, leading Mattie to the others. "A place for those who are clearly not human. I am correct, no, that this cannot be made public?"

"I have some ideas," Ellie said, looking happier. "Let me look into it."

The next day, Ellie walked into Jack's office. "I have the beginnings of an enclave. Subject to your approval, of course," she said at Jack's raised eyebrows.

"Go ahead," Jack said, feeling wary.

"My landlady has another house, but it's not in a part of town where she can get boarders. Not ones she'll have anyway. It's not a bad part of town," Ellie said, "just not where people want to live. She won't sell it, because she wants the income, but she's willing to rent it to us. She understands that some of the people will look, and maybe even act, strangely and she doesn't care as long as she gets her money." Then she smiled, clearly especially pleased with the next bit. "Better yet, she has connections all over town. She can get work our guests can do without leaving the house. It's piecework, not great money, but it's better than a workhouse and it'll mean we can keep the alien population quiet." She sat back in her chair, smugness radiating off her.

It wasn't a perfect plan—Jack could already see a couple of holes in it—but it was a great start. "Are you planning on being the housemother?" he asked.

Ellie's happy smile said everything.

It was several months later when he ran into now-Sergeant Lloyd. "You've got an interesting lot down there at your Warehouse," he said carefully.

Jack raised his eyebrows. "I like interesting people," he said.

"Got one I thought you could use." Lloyd blushed and started at his feet. "Well, hoped you could help anyway."

Jack's curiosity piqued, he said, "Tell me more."

Leading Jack toward a group of boarding houses, Lloyd said, "Man crawled into a bottle, racked up a load of debts, and killed himself when he couldn't pay it all back. His family thinks he married beneath him, so they took the children. I'll give them this; they did take care of the debt first. She's in a bad spot; she can't find any honest work, nothing that'll give her any hope of getting her children back."

Jack really _hated_ the Victorian era sometimes. Women as no more than the property of their husbands, and given no rights over their own children. "What are her chances?"

"Not good," Lloyd said, "but she won't have any if she can't provide for them."

'Not good,' Jack knew, was an enormous understatement. Still, he was more than willing, but, "What can she do?"

Lloyd shrugged. "She's a woman. Take care of you lot. Sarah tries, God bless her, but she's more interested in helping you lot than in being a proper woman." He knocked on a door. "Mrs. Grant, might we see Mrs. Williams?"

"You may talk with her in the parlour," the landlady said, standing straight and looking with disapproval at the two men.

Five minutes later, they were seated in the shabby parlour when a woman walked into the room. Medium height, light brown hair, wearing worn clothing, she perched on the edge of one of the armchairs. "Sergeant," she said briskly.

"Mrs. Williams, this is Captain Jack Harkness," Lloyd introduced them. "I thought he might be able to offer you some employment."

"Captain?" she asked. Jack realised she was younger than he'd thought at first, no more than late twenties.

"I'm not sure what I can offer you," Jack said. "Sergeant Lloyd, well, he has a good heart and we like him. What can you do?"

"I won't warm your bed," she said. "I'll cook and clean, but . . ." Then she slumped. "Never mind, I'll do anything to get my children back."

Jack thought a minute. "Are you willing to take care of someone else's?"

She straightened up at that. "Of course. How many and how old? If you need a nanny, I could certainly do that. I'm not trained as a governess . . ."

Jack shook his head. "I don't need a governess, but I think a nanny might do well. Housekeeper and nanny; are you willing?"

Mrs. Williams followed Jack and Lloyd back to the Warehouse, where the entire group was in the main room. Tom was playing catch with Mattie, Artam and Sarah were poring over a book together, and Ellie was cheerfully autopsying a Hoix. Jack smiled happily. "This is the Warehouse," he started.

"Have none of you ever heard of a mop?" Mrs. Williams asked, sounding scandalised.

"Er, sounds like you have everything under control," Lloyd said, backing out quickly. "When things settle down, Captain, maybe you can give me a tour."

"Traitor," Jack called after him. "To answer you, Mrs. Williams, we do our best but day-to-day tidiness isn't something any of us worry about."

"I suppose neither of the two women here are proper women at all," she said, her mouth pinched.

"It's three, and they're all perfectly proper women," Jack said, his voice cold. He wouldn't let anyone insult his friends. "They're just not housekeepers."

Mrs. Williams looked uncertain. "That, that, that person is a woman?" she asked.

"Yes," Jack said, "or at least a female Deshian. She isn't human. Come on," he waved his arm at the others, "let's go introduce you." With the exception of Ellie, the others had stopped what they were doing and waited for Jack and Mrs. Williams. "Mrs. Williams, may I present my right-hand woman, Sarah Humphries, and her nephew, Mattie. They live with me in the flat back there. This is Officer Thomas Rees, our police liaison, and our medic, Ellie Adams. By the way, that thing she's cutting up is a Hoix; with some luck, we'll learn better ways of keeping our people safe from them. And this is our newest member, Artam, from the Deshi Cooperative, who'll be helping us out with tech. Everyone, this is Mrs. Susan Williams; if she agrees, she'll be our new housekeeper and nanny."

"Do you cook?" Tom asked, his eyes hopeful.

"Miss Artam?" Mrs. Williams asked.

"Yes," the alien responded.

"It appears you need to add etiquette lessons to your training," Mrs. Williams said. Jack was amazed at the change. Far from the huddled shoulders and hopeless expression, his new employee was now standing straight and tall, her hands on her hips, with a sharp expression taking everything in. "How to use a mop might not go amiss. Miss Adams," she said sharply.

"Pleasure," Ellie said, "but I'm a little busy and you don't want to shake hands with me right now."

"No," the housekeeper answered, "I quite agree. However, is there a reason nothing has been put down to protect the flooring? Also, I don't believe a small child should be exposed to such an unpleasant procedure. Shouldn't he be removed?"

Mattie enjoyed being in the centre of things too much to keep quiet over this. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Williams," he said. "Watching Ellie don't bother me; sometimes I can help her."

Mrs. Williams shook Mattie's hand gravely. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Matthew. It should be, 'Watching Miss Adams doesn't bother me.' I am delighted to hear that you assist your elders when you can; however, your exposure to such unpleasantness should be reduced. Where would you normally be at this time of day?"

The other adults all exchanged uneasy glances. "He stays here," Sarah said after a minute, "where we can keep an eye on him. Pleased to meet you," she added grudgingly after Jack cleared his throat.

By bedtime, Mrs. Williams had set up a nursery in one corner of the Warehouse, having elicited a guarantee of a room to be built for the purpose. She and Artam had arranged for the housekeeper to teach the alien appropriate etiquette for the Victorian age, better quality cleaning supplies had been obtained, and used, and there were protective sheets to surround the autopsy area.

Mattie trailed after her, happy to be allowed to get into everything, and more willing to stay out of things when he had something to do. "Captain, may I suggest that either you or Miss Humphries begin attending to his education? He's old enough to be taught his letters and he'll need education to do well in the world."

"I'll start on teaching him to read tonight." Jack didn't think he liked her, but she would certainly create order out of the chaos of their lives. He supposed that, for now, that would be enough.


	8. 1875

**1875**

The scream had Jack sitting straight up in bed, fumbling for a weapon. He'd stopped leaving his gun loaded at night; Mattie was fascinated by it and didn't understand why he couldn't play with it. Then, Jack's brain caught up with him. "Mrs. Williams?" he asked.

"What's wrong?" Sarah asked, sounding terrified as she went looking for her dressing gown. "Did something come through the Rift?"

"What are you doing in his bed?" Mrs. Williams asked with a screech.

Before Sarah could really get going with the screaming match Jack could see coming, Jack held up his hand. Amazingly, both women and Mattie quieted. "Mrs. Williams," he asked through his teeth, "is there anyone in danger, physical danger? Is something on the rampage; has someone broken into the Warehouse?"

Her lips thin, Mrs. Williams said, "I woke and thought to check on Mattie. When I didn't find him, I came to tell you he'd gone missing. I didn't expect to see this kind of, of, of debauchery."

Closing his eyes, Jack reminded himself that Mrs. Williams wasn't a villain, wasn't even unkind. She was a product of her times. He finally thought his voice was under enough control to say, "Mattie, everything is all right. I want you to go back to sleep. We adults are going to have this discussion in the kitchen over tea like civilised people; you'll have to go back to sleep on your own."

"Like a big boy," Mattie said, his eyes huge. "What's deb—"

"Nothing you need to worry about," Jack said. "Mrs. Williams, since I don't want to do any more damage to your sensibilities than I already have, could you please leave the bedroom?" Before she could work up to her objection, he continued, "I don't wear pyjamas and I doubt you want to see me naked."

"I will meet you in the kitchen immediately!" she said. "I thought better of you than this." She whirled and didn't slam the door behind her, quite.

"That, that, that," Sarah said, breathing hard. "How dare she?" When Jack gave her a look, she sighed. "I know. Don't dawdle." She kissed Mattie's forehead and left the room.

Once the door was closed, Jack climbed out of bed and put on a vest and trousers and found a dressing gown to throw on over them. He leaned over and kissed Mattie. "Don't worry, we'll work things out."

Mattie's eyes were huge as he nodded.

Mrs. Williams already had the kettle on and she and Sarah were glaring at each other. When Jack walked in, she whirled. "You will explain yourself."

"I plan on it," Jack said, "but we will have this discussion like mature adults or you can find another position. Now, please sit down."

"Jack," Sarah said. She knew how difficult Mrs. Williams would have finding a new position, especially without Jack's recommendation.

Mrs. Williams's face had frozen and she sat stiffly, her posture otherwise perfect, in one of the chairs. Sarah and Jack sat down as well.

"You are aware of the fact that I'm not from around here," Jack said.

"The two most common theories are America and Heaven," she said stiffly. "I believed the first even before this."

Jack started to continue in the same line, but then stopped. "What did you see and what do you think was going on?"

"I saw you and Sarah in bed together, and you'd pulled Mattie into it," she said.

"What were we doing?" Jack kept his voice level.

"Sleeping," she said.

"Was there any reason to believe that anything other than sleeping had been happening? You have a pretty good sense of smell and I know you know what sex smells like."

Looking confused, Mrs. Williams said, "What else would you be doing in bed together? Maybe not tonight, but—"

"But never," Sarah said. "I offered when we first met, but Jack has never even looked at me that way. He still thinks I'm a child," she said with a bit of a grumble.

"Where I'm from," Jack said, "a child was never away from the physical touch of an adult family member from birth until they could walk. Then, until they reach puberty, they are kept in the presence of a family member unless there is a compelling reason not to be." He smiled. "Hard to play Hide-and-Seek if someone else can see you. One of the things I found most shocking when I left home was that that's considered unusual."

"How were you taught to be independent?" Mrs. Williams asked.

"Much the way children here are," Jack answered. "In fact, from what I was told, and some studies I read later, we B'shani tended to be more independent, and confident in it, at a younger age than children raised differently. It's easier to trust yourself when there's a safety net, and success breeds confidence."

"But, Sarah, you're from here, aren't you?" Mrs. Williams's posture had relaxed; she now looked more confused than angry.

"I am," Sarah said. She smiled at Jack. "When we met . . . Well, lucky for me, Jack decided I looked like a housekeeper." She laughed when Mrs. Williams sniffed. "Jack introduced me to the wonders of technology; since then I've not had time for much housekeeping. That first night, he only had the one bed, but he offered to share it, just to sleep. He got us our own beds the next day, but I've found it comforting to have someone else nearby." She smiled at Jack. "He's always been a perfect gentleman, except that he won't wear pyjamas."

"Get all tangled up in 'em," Jack muttered. "I'd been going mad; when I met Sarah and Mattie, it was the longest time I'd slept alone in my life. I was looking for a prostitute that was willing to spend the night." He grinned. "Got a bit more than I bargained for with this one."

"If it's not too impertinent," Mrs. Williams asked, "what about when Percy Morgan lived here?"

Sarah and Jack laughed. "Poor Percy," Sarah said. Jack was glad she was explaining; he still missed the younger man. "The first time he spent the night, he woke in the middle of the night with me telling him to budge over and Mattie between him and Jack. I still miss him," she said, sounding forlorn.

"He's in a better place," Mrs. Williams said, patting her arm. After a few moments of silence, she looked over at Jack. "B'shani? Is that in the South Seas? I've never heard of it."

"I never have either," Sarah said, looking interested.

"This doesn't leave this room," Jack said after thinking it over for a minute. "I don't talk much about where I'm from; I'm not trying to be mysterious. It could be dangerous."

"Stop that," Mrs. Williams said irritably. "How could it be dangerous?"

"I could cause a paradox, or damage the timelines," Jack said. He wondered, though, how he was supposed to live without changing anything. The thought of being a hermit no one knew about didn't appeal. "I'm from another planet, from the future."

"You're an alien?" Mrs. Williams and Sarah said over each other.

"No, I'm human," Jack said, ignoring the fact that it was only about 95 percent true. "The human race, well, people like Jules Verne are right. We do make it to the stars."

"And foreknowledge is dangerous," Mrs. Williams said. "But how can you run the Warehouse if that's the case?"

"First Contact doesn't happen for . . . a while yet," Jack answered. "I think that if I weren't doing it, someone else would be. Otherwise, I keep my mouth shut. I know what's coming, I even have some ideas on how to stop it, or make it better, but I can't. Wars . . ." Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "That's why I didn't join the military. It's the closest thing to what I was trained for, but—"

They were all quiet for a minute. Finally, Mrs. Williams broke the silence. "May I ask, Captain Harkness, why you've never propositioned me? You certainly flirt with just about everyone else."

"You've never given me a reason to believe you'd welcome it," Jack answered. He leaned back in his chair and gave her a good look. "Believe me, it's not because I don't find you attractive. Why, are you interested?"

She rolled her eyes as Sarah snorted. "I'm afraid you can't add me to your list of interested parties," Mrs. Williams said, but she was smiling. "May I take this to mean that when I don't find Mattie in his bed, he's likely to be in yours?"

"When I'm in mine, Mattie usually is as well," Jack admitted.

"Very well, then," she said. "Good night."

Once he'd stripped and climbed back into bed, Jack sighed in relief. With luck, there would be no more disturbances in the night.

"This filing thing is a splendid idea," Mrs. Williams said one afternoon as she filed the week's reports, Mattie playing happily in the basement nursery where she could watch them. "It's too bad there's not some way to direct the files to the right area."

"What about that thing you had me read about?" Sarah asked.

"Which one?" Jack asked warily. Sarah had taken to reading technical journals as if it were water and she dying of thirst, but she didn't always have enough scientific or mathematical background to accurately judge what she was reading. Artam tried, but she was continually shocked by the gaps in Sarah's knowledge.

"The analytical engine," Sarah answered. "The one Babbage designed, or something like it. I'll wager we could put something together that would direct where the files went." She looked down at the spaceship engine she was taking apart with Jack. "I'm not much help with this thing, but I have some ideas."

"God have mercy," Mrs. Williams muttered, but she was smiling as she walked away.

Later that afternoon, a police runner came by with a request to help with a "strange beastie that's causing trouble". Jack took Tom, Sarah and Ellie with him to investigate.

It was a Jotunn, a huge beast that had been named by the humans that had colonised its native planet. It had to have come through the Rift; no one in their right mind would transport one. They weren't sapient, they had nasty dispositions and they were always hungry. "A lot like a Hoix, then," Ellie said as Jack identified it.

"No, a Jotunn will fight if it can, even if there's food available," Jack said. "Be careful, they're not intelligent, but they are canny and they're dangerous."

Two hours later, Ellie finished bandaging Sarah's leg. "Thanks be to God for the alien technology we get," she said, stripping off her gloves. "Without it, she'd have lost the leg and, that high, she'd have been lucky to survive it."

"She'll be all right," Jack asked, and realised that he'd heard it in stereo. Looking over, he saw Tom blush.

"Barring anything unforeseen," Ellie said. "Susan, she'll be on liquids until I say so, no matter how much she complains."

Tom cleared his throat. "Captain, sir, I hate to say this," he started.

Jack rolled his head and glared. "Say it; it can't be any worse than what I'm thinking."

"No offence to the ladies, but we need another man, or more, here," Tom said. "I never would have believed it, but the ladies are as good as any man at everything else, but they just don't have the muscle. Sarah wouldn't have been hurt if she'd had more strength to hit it with."

Jack sighed. "You're right, Tom, but where do I go for someone like that?"

"You can't wait for someone to drop into our laps, like all of us did," Ellie said. "You have to go out looking."

Jack looked over at her. "You didn't fall into my lap," he said. Then he smiled. "I'm going to visit Evan. Send someone if you need me." He grabbed his coat and swept out of the Warehouse.

He couldn't, of course, just ask his question. First, he had to eat two bowls of Gwyneth's excellent fish stew, not something he'd ever argue over. Then, he had to admire the new babies, including their first great-grandchild. Jack shook his head over little Griffith Morgan; his grandparents were younger than Jack was. Finally, he was able to get to business. "I need more muscle," he told Evan bluntly. Tom and I just aren't enough; we nearly lost Sarah this time."

"Didn't you say once that you hadn't always been a law-abiding man?" Gwyneth said, setting a huge slice of cake in front of him.

"Don't know that I am now," Jack said. "I'd prefer not to hire someone who's on the run, but that's just because we do work with the police. Do you know someone?"

"Harry?" Evan asked. When Gwyneth nodded, Evan said, "Harry Pearse. He's not a bad lad, but he runs with a bad crowd. He's never been caught at anything, not yet. Can't even say I know he's done anything wrong."

"He's not a big man," Gwyneth said, "but he's stronger than you'd think and there's not many that have ever laid a hand on him in a fight. No one'll bet against him in a fight. Well, no one who knows him."

"Sounds like my kind of man," Jack said.

Three days later, when Sarah had finally talked her way far enough out of bed to work on her analytical engine, a man with a rat-like face showed up. "Morgan says you might have work," he said. He was a little shorter than average and not heavily built. With the way he held himself, though, Jack thought his appearance might be deceptive.

"Harry Pearsall?" Jack asked, holding out his hand.

"Pearse," the other man corrected. His handshake was firm, but stopped just shy of knuckle-breaking.

"Let's see what you're made of," Jack said. "Hey, Tom, are you up for a test fight?"

"Don't know no test fighting," Pearse said with a sneer. "I don't fight by no Marquess of Queensbury rules."

"Neither do we," Jack said, with his best shark's grin. He led Pearse to the area they used for weapon training; Tom following right after. "No trying to do permanent damage," he said. "This is to see how good you are; if you can't work with us, you're no good to us." Pearse nodded and they started fighting.

Ten minutes later, Jack called a stop. He was grateful he'd put limits on the fight; both he and Tom were hurting and Harry hadn't been touched. "So, Pearse," he said, as he dabbed at his lip with a towel. Then he glanced down. "Great; I'm going to be catching Hell; it's one of the good dishtowels."

"Is she good enough in bed?" Pearse asked, looking amused.

"No idea," Jack said, laughing while Tom looked horrified. "You haven't met Mrs. Williams yet; you'll understand once you have. Did Evan and Gwyneth explain what we do?"

"They didn't have to," Pearse said, with a smirk. Jack sighed as the other man continued, "You're the Captain that runs the Warehouse; you keep us safe from the uncanny things Cardiff attracts. By the way," his face turned serious, "anyone gives you a hard time, pass the word. It'll stop. We know what you do."

"It's supposed to be secret," Jack muttered, shaking his head. "The 'uncanny things'? They're aliens, beings from other worlds. Usually, at least. Some of them are friendly; you'll meet Artam later and we've got a little community out in Butetown. Some of them are deadly; that's what got Sarah. I'm looking for muscle; the work'll be dangerous. We do our best to minimise the danger, but it's there."

Pearse shrugged. "Been living on the edge since m'tad kicked me out. Reckon it's better with you; police back you up. I'm in."

By the time Sarah was allowed back on full active status, the analytical engine could direct files to the appropriate area as long as the person who put it in the tube typed in the right subject. Her next project was to find a way of retrieving those reports more effectively. Harry found her intensity over the project hysterical but, after being trapped in one of the cells for six hours, learned not to make fun where any of the others could hear.


	9. 1876

**1876**

"Yes!" Jack shouted, throwing the list of patent requests up in the air. "Finally, we can start setting up communications."

"What's that, then?" Harry asked, picking up the list. "Most of this stuff never gets built, y'know that, yeah?"

"Jack has a way of knowing what will," Sarah said sharply. "Which one?" She pulled the list out of Harry's hands and started reading it herself. Then she yelped when Jack pulled it out of her hands. "I was looking at that."

"I'll give it back to you in a minute," Jack said as he looked for the details. United States patent number 174,465. He felt himself deflate when he realised the implications. Yes, the invention had been developed, but it would be years before the infrastructure was in place. In the meantime, they had to make do with shouting and sending messengers if they needed to communicate in the field. "Never mind," he said. "Here, knock yourself out."

As he left for his flat, he heard Harry inviting Sarah to dinner so they could discuss the patents, and her cheerful acceptance. When had that happened?

Later that evening, Jack was back in his office, writing up reports and thinking wistfully of his Chula ship's AI, of communicators of all types. Hell, even the mobile phones he'd teased Rose about being so primitive were infinitely better than what he had today.

"Captain?" Tom asked.

Jack looked up surprised. He hadn't realised anyone else was still here. "Evening, Tom. Why aren't you home?"

"Diana, my sister, is having an evening with a group of her friends." Tom's expression made it clear how little he wanted to be present.

"So, is she trying to set you up with someone," Jack asked with a smile, "or is there just too much femininity?"

"Bit o' both," Tom said, "and I wanted to talk with you, quiet like."

Jack sat up, worried. Tom was quiet; he did his job and otherwise wasn't much heard from, but he was good at his job. "What's wrong?"

"Stop worrying," Tom said, as if he could read Jack's mind. "What had you so upset this afternoon?"

"The list of new patents," Jack said. "One of them would have been really useful, but it'll be years before it's ready."

Tom dropped down into the chair in front of Jack's desk. "You're not from here," he said. "You're from someplace where the technology is more advanced, yeah?"

Jack nodded. "It's best if I don't go into a lot of detail, but, yes, you're right."

"Then why don't we use what you know?"

"I have to be careful not to change the timelines," Jack said with a sigh. "The wrong tech too early and the results could be catastrophic. It's best if we just stay at the front edge of technology, not in front of it."

"Why?" When Jack started to repeat himself, Tom held up his hand. "I understand why we can't make it public, but why can't we use it?"

"It's timelines," Jack started to say, but Tom interrupted him.

"When do we humans make First Contact with an alien species?" Tom asked.

Before he thought about, Jack almost answered. "I can't tell you that," he said instead.

"But you know," Tom said, leaning forward. "And there's no record of any aliens coming before then, is there?"

Jack leaned back, thinking. "No. That's why it's called First Contact."

"Are you attracting the ones we see here?"

"No," Jack said. It was something he'd wondered about; aliens on the Earth over a century before First Contact, but he'd just thought they were accidents, so he didn't worry about it.

"Then why can't we make some of this equipment you want?" Tom asked. "We wouldn't let anybody else have it, we could make it look like something else, something already around, but why can't we make what we need?"

Although his first reaction was to object, Jack stopped and thought about it. Materials would be a problem, of course. A lot of what he wanted to build couldn't be done without other innovations. Jack could make a blaster, if he had the component pieces. He could jury-rig some of them but, in most cases, he didn't know enough to make the components. Still, that wasn't as bad as it could be; it would limit what he could do and it wouldn't look out of place. "You might have a point," he said. "It's not as easy as you're making it sound, but it could be done."

"It never is," Tom said with a laugh. "Talk me through it. If I can understand it, anyone can."

When Sarah and Harry came back, after midnight, Jack was deep into an explanation of the inner workings of a telegraph. "Look who the cat dragged in," Jack called to them. "That must have been some dinner."

"Harry took me to a concert," Sarah said, a little shy. Now that Jack was paying attention, he noticed that she was dressed up, as was Harry. "Is Mattie still up?"

"It's Matthew," Jack said. Now that he went to grammar school, Mattie had decided that Mattie was a baby name and was insisting he be called Matthew. It was bittersweet; Jack was enjoying watching the little boy grow up, but he missed the toddler who looked up to him as if he could solve everything. And Matthew was getting near the age Gray had been when he was killed.

"So, is Matthew still up?" Sarah asked.

Jack shook his head. "He went to sleep a couple of hours ago," he said, "which is where we all should be. You'd better take advantage of it because I've got big plans for tomorrow."

Jack stood in the middle of the alley, looking around in shock. One minute, he'd been chasing a Hoix down the alley, ready to hit it with the new tranquiliser dart Ellie had created. The next, he was staring at an empty alley. "Tom," he shouted, "it's gone."

"Over here," he heard Sarah shout from his belt.

With a grin, Jack picked up the communicator he and Artam had created. It was big, bulky, had a range of a quarter of a mile, and everything interfered with it. Still, it was much better than they'd had before. Pushing the send button, he said, "Where's here? Do you have the Hoix?"

"It has us," Sarah said. Jack could hear the fear in her voice. "We're behind the bakery."

"On my way." Jack put it back in his belt and took off. Once there, he stopped, his anger rising. Three Blowfish had surrounded Sarah, Harry and Tom, with two Hoixes in front of them. Tom was down. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked, keeping his voice level.

"We require rights of residence," the one who looked the oldest said. "This world is pleasant."

Jack carefully keyed open his communicator. Ellie could get help from the police; there presence alone should be enough to get rid of the Blowfish. "That is in violation of the Shadow Proclamation," he said. "Section 1, Clause 12, in which it states that a world with a sentient population but no space flight cannot be interfered with. Now, do you leave peacefully, or do we call for the Judoon." Jack despised the Judoon, but they made great threats.

He didn't have enough time to move when he heard the sounds behind him; the Hoix jumped him and took a bite out of his throat.

The next several minutes were a blur. Blood loss and shock meant that Jack couldn't concentrate on what was happening. From what he could tell, the police were right behind the Hoix. Shots were fired, and an energy weapon, before Jack could hear the tell-tale sound of a transport. Then, Ellie was beside him, pressing something cloth to his neck and murmuring to him. The world went black.

He came to with a gasp. "Easy, Captain," Ellie said, her voice trembling. "You've lost a great deal of blood; you must rest."

"The Blowfish?" he asked as Ellie pushed him down.

"Gone," Tom answered. "They looked pretty worried when we told him the police were an auxiliary to the Judoon."

Jack grinned. "Not bad, not bad at all. How much damage control will we have with the police?"

"We convinced the police you were just badly hurt," Ellie said. She lifted the cloth. "Completely healed. We'll bandage you anyway; otherwise, there will be questions."

Harry snorted. "Right. You keep telling yourself that," he said. When Jack looked at him, the other man shrugged. "They probably will," he said, sounding grudging. "They didn't get a good look at your neck and it looked like you fainted from blood loss."

Jack groaned. "Great."

"The communicators worked a treat, though," Sarah said, her voice bright and cheerful. "Any ideas as to what we can build next?"

Jack had lots of ideas; the question was what to work on first. "Maybe we can get that stun gun to work over distance," he said. It wouldn't quite be a blaster, but it'd be nice to be able to bring down an opponent from a distance. Tranquiliser darts were great, if you knew which species you were dealing with.

Sarah's eyes got a gleam in them. Jack wasn't sure if she was thinking distance stun guns or something else, but he was looking forward to her next flight of fancy. Even the unworkable ones turned out to be useful in the end.


	10. 1877

**187****7**

"You'd better not die on me, Harry Pearse," Sarah yelled at him as she held her coat against his leg to stop the bleeding. "You'd better just hang on."

As Harry opened his mouth, Ellie snapped, "Don't talk, conserve your strength." She started suturing his leg closed. "Captain, where's that creature?"

"We have it," Jack said, panting. He and Tom were hauling the alien into the alley; Jack had sent a young boy running to the police station for them to remove it. "It's dead. Will he be all right?" Losing Percy had been bad enough; losing Harry a month before his wedding would be . . .

"If he holds still," Ellie said.

While she worked on Harry, Tom and Jack cleared up everything alien or inexplicable except the Hoix's body. The police crew arrived twenty minutes later; the officer in charge asked Jack quietly, "Will Pearse survive?"

Jack looked over. Ellie was bandaging the wound, and Sarah was scolding Harry for protecting her at his own expense. "If Sarah doesn't kill him," he answered.

"Good enough," Davies said. "What do we do with these ones again?"

"Don't get between them and food," Jack answered. "They live to eat. Otherwise," he shrugged, "do what you have to."

Once they made it back to the Warehouse, Jack called a meeting. "We lost Percy," he said, once everyone but Harry was sitting. Harry was lying on a bed in the medical area, asleep from the painkillers Ellie had given him. Sarah was at the table, and paying attention, but she wouldn't take her eyes off her fiancé. "We almost lost Harry today. We've all been injured and it's a matter of time before we lose someone else and that's. No. Longer. Acceptable. I need ideas, people."

"Shoot first," Tom said.

"A lot of the aliens are people," Ellie objected. "We can't just kill them because they're in the wrong place."

"Knock 'em out, then," Tom said with a shrug.

Sarah dragged her eyes away from Harry. "Are you all thick?"

"Let's hear your idea," Jack said, his eyebrows raised.

"Tell the Crown we need more people," Susan said. "Five of us against everything the Rift throws at us is mad. What were they thinking?"

Jack felt himself redden. "The Crown has nothing to do with us," he said. More people wasn't such a bad idea, though. He'd have to sit down and see how many more people he could pay.

"Then who pays my salary?" Ellie asked. "It has to be the Crown somehow; this setup is too dear for one person."

Sarah's eyes were widening. "Jack?" she asked in a whisper.

"Er, yeah, one person," Jack said, not looking at any of his team.

"Why are you embarrassed?" Tom asked. "That explains a lot actually."

Jack stood and walked to the doorway, looking out over his headquarters. Scientific research, technological development, medical treatment. All of the desks with all of their reports, all of their work. "I never planned on this," he said slowly. "I was just marking time."

"Lot of work for just marking time," Tom said.

Jack shrugged. "I know, I just . . ." He sighed. "I got interested, and I'm a soldier. Fighting's all I know."

There was a moment of dead silence, and then Sarah started to giggle. Ellie followed and then so did Tom. Jack looked around feeling hurt. "What's so funny?" he asked, trying to keep his temper.

Mrs. Williams shook her head, walked over and kissed his cheek. "The thought of you only knowing how to fight is absurd. This conversation is over." Before Jack could object, she said, "For tonight. Let me be clear. Are you paying for everything? Our salaries, the equipment, all of it?"

"Yeah," Jack said, nodding. He smiled. "First thing I've started I've been proud of, ever. This is mine."

Ellie shook her head, still chuckling. "Right. Sarah, you keep watch over your fiancé; you'll know if I need to come back in. Jack, get some sleep. Part of the reason Harry was injured is that none of us are well-rested. You take care of yourself." When Jack started to open his mouth, she pointed at him and said, "Do it, or I'll have Tom hold you down and I'll sedate you."

Jack closed his mouth and nodded. She'd do it.

"I'm doing the same. I'll see you all in the morning." Ellie nodded at them and began collecting her things. Tom followed her lead and went to leave with her. They both waited at the doorway until Jack was at the door of his flat.

Instead of walking out to the main warehouse as was his morning routine, Jack spent his morning scrubbing his flat. He was just thinking about getting something to eat when he noticed that the noise from outside was getting loud. Much louder than normal, in fact. Grabbing his coat, he went out into the warehouse.

Sarah was arguing with Harry to keep him in bed, while Ellie and Tom kept looking through a spy hole that Jack had installed when he was first converting the warehouse. Jack couldn't see what was causing the noise. "Tom, Ellie, can you tell what's causing that racket?"

Tom's shoulders slumped and he turned to face Jack, biting his lip. "Er, I'm sorry, Captain, but I think I overstepped myself."

Jack looked at him. He didn't require formality; all of his people usually called him Jack, at least, when they wanted to be polite. "What did you do?"

"Technically, I still work for the police force."

Jack nodded. It was technically true; Tom even drew a salary from them although Jack supplemented it. "Right."

"I thought, well, when I found out you've been paying for all of this, I went to my superiors about it." Tom looked worried, but not ashamed.

"Go on." Jack wasn't sure what to make of it, other than to clarify Tom's status as soon as he could.

"I think they spoke with the Chief," Tom said, looking out the spy hole again.

"And," Jack said, waiting to see what this had to do with the noise.

"The Chief of Police called him in this morning to talk with him," Ellie said, losing her patience. "He took Tom's full report. The word's out there now; anyone who knows about the Warehouse knows you've been funding it. The whole Morgan clan is out there now, as are most of the police, and everyone from the Rift we've ever resettled. And the Chief of Police and the Mayor. And Lord Bute." She smirked at Jack. "The last three just got here. I don't think they'll stay outside for long."

Jack brushed Ellie and Tom away so he could look through the spy hole. At least he didn't see any military. After thinking for a minute, he stood up. "Sarah, make sure Harry's presentable; we're gonna have company. Ellie . . ." Jack couldn't think of anything specific for his doctor. "Ellie, look like a doctor." She huffed out a snort. "Tom, today is for the dignitaries, and I won't be giving general tours of the Warehouse anyway."

"That's not what they want, Jack," Ellie told him patiently. "They want to help."

"Good. Tom, tell them they can help by going home and continuing to be their normal, sensible selves. Those are good people out there; we just . . . Ask them to go home." Jack shooed Tom out the side door and stood up straight. "Combat's easier than this." With his staff's chuckles to bolster him, Jack went out to face the crowd.

"You make sure they do right by you, Captain," Jack heard Evan shout above the applause he got as he walked out the door.

Jack blinked and shouted back, "They always have, Evan. This is a great town, wouldn't you say?"

The Marquess smiled. "Quite right." He seemed to notice Tom trying to gently direct people home. "I think we should all be listening to the Captain's people. That fine young man is giving instructions; do you have any more for us, Captain?"

The Marquess's speaking seemed to be the cue for everyone to quiet. Jack took a deep breath. "Thank you, sir, er . . ." Jack couldn't remember the correct address.

"Yes, continue," Lord Bute said. Jack could see his eyes twinkling, but he wasn't making a big deal out of Jack's slip, which was all he cared about.

Jack realised that he couldn't just send everyone home without saying anything. He smiled out at the crowd. "It's a pleasure to see all the friends we have here," he said, happy he could stick with the simple truth. It was always the most effective. "We all have a lot of work to do, and I think I have some conversations to have." That got a laugh. "Thank you all. It means more to me than you could ever know to have all of you behind us. I think it's time to get back to work now."

He got another round of applause, but the crowd started breaking up. Jack was able to smile at the three dignitaries that were still at his front door. "Since I don't like to make assumptions, may I ask what brings you gentlemen here?" he asked.

"I don't know about my companions," Lord Bute said with a smile, "but I'd quite like a tour of this Warehouse that houses the heroes that keep my city safe." He sobered. "I understand one of your people was badly injured last night; how is he?"

"He'll be fine," Jack said, smiling. "My doctor says his wedding will be able to go on as scheduled." With a grin, he continued, "Which is good, because I'm not sure whether his fiancée would go after me or him first."

"Been hearing about this place," the Chief said. "Always wanted a tour."

Jack looked at him, surprised. "Why didn't you ask?"

"Wasn't sure I'd be allowed," was the answer. "Always wondered why I never got orders from the Crown."

As Jack led the three officials into the Warehouse, the Mayor asked, "Is it true that you've provided all of the financial support? All of it?"

Jack had been thinking all night as to why it had never occurred to him to ask for money. He was just so used to doing everything himself, and it seemed appropriate considering he'd basically stolen the capital in the first place. He couldn't say that, but he'd come up with a good, even a true, answer. "Cardiff has provided me a home," he said. "Protecting my fellow citizens seems the least I can do."

It was a little disappointing that none of the three officials really cared about the scientific and technological work that Jack thought was the centre of their work, but they were impressed by how much was done with so little support and so few people. "You have women working with you?" Lord Bute asked, watching Ellie check Harry's bandage.

"I hire people who can do the work I need them to do," Jack answered. Even after nearly a decade, the attitude that women were weak and incapable of most work still confused him. "I don't really care if they're men or women. I only hire the best."

After the tour, Jack led the trio to the conference table. Tom brought over a formal tea. Jack blinked at it. "Mrs. Morgan asked—"

"Thank you, Tom, and thank the ladies who set this up," Jack said. He didn't think he could handle the chain of assistance today.

"I think it goes without saying that we hope you continue your excellent work, Captain Harkness," the Marquess said. "If we offer funds, will you accept them?"

"Of course," Jack answered. "It wasn't pride so much as . . ." He struggled for a minute to put his feelings into words. "I could do it, so I did. It's simpler that way."

That got a laugh from the other three men. "There's much to be said for simplicity," the Mayor said with a smile. "As a Cardiff institution, however, you may expect to be called before the Council to explain some of the more public, er, incidents. I will be calling you for the next meeting to explain your work. Of course, the Council will also expect you to inform us of any assistance you may need."

Before Jack could say anything, the Chief said, "I want to keep a man working with you. No reason to replace Officer Rees, of course. We should be working together."

"Thank you, sir," Jack said. "To be honest, most of your men on the street do work with us; we've kept it informal but I know I can rely on the police here." The Chief's chest puffed out a bit at the compliment. "Gentlemen, I appreciate everything you're offering, but this work needs to be kept quiet."

Before he said anything else, Lord Bute spoke up. "I quite agree. However, it can't be kept secret. It's already well known that, when something uncanny happens in Cardiff, it's the Captain who will do what needs doing." He looked amused. "I may not have heard of you before last night, but all of my servants have. Nothing will change, except now you will have official sanction."

In the end, Jack could do nothing but accept.

The next morning, a tall, broad-shouldered young man with red hair, a broad freckled face, and a policeman's uniform showed up. "I've been assigned here, sir, Captain," the young man said. "David Watkins."

Jack shook his head and smiled. "What were you told about this assignment?" he asked.

Watkins started to shrug. "Just that I'm to consider the Warehouse my duty," he said. "Er, my sergeant said he doesn't know many details, just that you stop the weird stuff. He said you'd tell me what I need to know."

Jack sighed. "At least you're starting out with no misconceptions," he said.


	11. 1878

**1878**

"I'm mad," Harry moaned, trying to breathe. "I've gone completely mad, I have. I can't—"

"You don't think you're leaving, do you?" Jack asked, torn between amusement and anger.

"Why couldn't we just get married in front of the magistrate? Why does there have to be all these people?

"Because that's what your lovely bride wants," Tom said. "Stop worrying. All you have to do is repeat your vows, don't vomit, and tell her she's beautiful."

Jack grinned. "And since she is and you're in love with her, that part'll be easy. The vomiting . . . Should I go get Ellie?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Thanks, think I'll take a miss. How much longer? I want to be done with it."

"Last chance to back out," Dave said as he walked into the room the other men were in. "Minister's about to start."

"Oh, God," Harry moaned. "All them people—"

"All those people are ready to cheer for you and Sarah to be happy," Jack said. "So, go do it." He turned to Dave. "Is she ready for me?"

Dave nodded and Jack shook Harry's hand. "Good luck," he said, smirking. Then he left to find the bride's party.

Sarah wasn't in much better shape than Harry. "I should have let him talk me into the magistrate," she said, glaring at Ellie, who was smirking.

"You should have done no such thing," Mrs. Williams said, calmly straightening Sarah's dress. "Everyone wants to cheer for the two of you."

"Yay!" Matthew said, his grin huge. Jack picked him up and spun him around.

"Don't make him sick!" Mrs. Williams snapped.

"Yes, ma'am," Jack said, putting the boy down. "You're getting too big for that anyway," he said as Matthew started running around. Then he turned to Sarah. "You look incredible," he said, surprised at the lump in his throat. "Harry's a lucky man."

It was almost half an hour before they were ready for the bride and her attendants. Watching Ellie as the maid of honour walk up the aisle, Jack turned to Sarah. "You can still back out," he said, feeling strangely reluctant to let her go.

"No," Sarah said, smiling although there were tears in her eyes. "And stop it. You'll still be seeing me every day; I just won't be scaring your current lover when I crawl into bed with you."

Jack laughed. "Usually they're at least half expecting it. It's Matthew that causes all the problems." He took a deep breath. "Even if you quit working at the Warehouse, I will always be there if you need me. Always."

Sarah smiled up at him. "Don't make me cry. Susan has stuff on my face and it'll run and look awful."

"Not possible," Jack said, noticing that Ellie was at the front of the church. "Here we go."

As everyone stood when he walked down the aisle with Sarah, Jack remembered reading about the wedding customs of this time and into the next centuries. He could remember the female students in his classes and how they had strong things to say about a woman being something given from one man to another. He suspected he'd be fighting to protect his honour from them if they could see him standing in Sarah's father's place. Not that Sarah disagreed, but she'd wanted 'a proper wedding' and so that's what she'd have, and that meant a man standing in for her father. When they got to the front, he put Sarah's hands in Harry's and went back to sit in his place of honour.

The ceremony itself was simple, but there were prayers and songs and Bible readings to endure first. Finally, the minister said, "If any man can show just cause, why they may not be lawfully joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace."

"I speak," a man said from the back of the church.

Without thinking about it, Jack stood and turned, ready to do battle with anyone who would disrupt Sarah's wedding. To his horror, two Blowfish were walking up the aisle, carrying rifles that they were clearly ready to use. There were too many people in the way for Jack to be able to shoot safely; his mind was whirling about how to take them down without hurting anyone else.

"You see, this woman is the creature who has murdered several of our brothers," one of them said, "so I think it only fair that we get her." Jack could see Sarah and her attendants whispering to each other, even as they stayed in their places. Mrs. Williams handed her a handkerchief, Jack noticed.

As they passed, one of them stopped and held his rifle on Jack, leering. Jack knew that, as soon as he could get free of the non-combatants, he was killing both of them.

The other had made it to the altar, and grabbed Sarah's hand from Harry's. The minister's eyes were huge; he clearly didn't know how to handle non-human objectors.

"I think you should marry us," the Blowfish holding Sarah's hand said. "Don't you, dear?"

"Here's what I think of your proposal," Sarah said. She lifted the handkerchief, which fell showing the handgun Mrs. Williams must have handed her, and shot the Blowfish in the face.

As soon as she did that, Jack grabbed the rifle from the other one's hands. He was too stunned by the bride's actions to protect himself. Jack hit him over the head, not being any too careful about it.

Dave and Tom pulled their own guns out from their holsters. "We'll be right back, sir," Dave told the minister. "Please wait on us."

Jack brought the rifle up and followed them out onto the sunny street. After surveying the area for several minutes, Tom said, "Looks like it was just those two, yeah?"

"Appears to be. What are you two doing coming to a wedding armed? One in which you're ushers."

Tom shrugged. "Good thing we did. The real question is why were the ladies armed? Hope Harry knows what he's getting into."

Jack led the other two back into the church. He could see that someone had removed the two Blowfish. Hugh Morgan came up and murmured, "A couple of my lot have taken them down to the docks. You can decide what to do with them when you have a bit of time."

"Thanks, Hugh," Jack said. After walking back to his seat, and looking to confirm that Tom and Dave were back in their places, he smiled at the minister. "Sorry about that. You can go on."

"Yes." Looking down at his book, he swallowed hard. "I assume no one else has any objections." Everyone in the church appeared to be holding their breath, but no one said anything. "Very good," the minister said, and continued with the ceremony.

In the reception line after the wedding, nearly every man made a remark to Harry about how he'd better watch his step.

"I already knew that," Harry would say. "I wanted a woman who could watch my back."

"And a fine back it is, too," Sarah said with a laugh.

Jack hadn't realised how on edge he was until Ellie took his fourth glass of champagne from him. "Relax," she said, "everything's fine."

"Is this who we are?" he asked, feeling hopeless. "Because of me, a bride had to kill a man on her wedding day."

"We're all fortunate that those things don't want to interrupt most weddings," he heard behind him. Jack turned and saw the Marquess. "I must say, at least her husband didn't look shocked. Of course," the other man chuckled, "he did look a little annoyed that she beat him to the shot. Your people are a lively bunch." He sat down next to Ellie. "So, tell me, Captain Harkness, why aren't you married?"

Jack stared blankly for a minute. Finally, he stuttered, "M-m-married to my work, sir."

"A man needs heirs," the Marquess said, looking around. "What about you?" he asked Ellie. "You'd certainly have no surprises."

Ellie shook her head. "Not the marrying kind," she said, her eyes huge. "Er, excuse me, I'm needed . . ." She stood and walked away, not quite running.

The Marquess smiled. "If all Warehouse weddings are going to be this exciting," he said as he stood, "I'll be asking for invitations."

The Marquess left, after handing Harry an envelope. Jack banged his head on the table. If all Warehouse weddings were going to be this "exciting", he was going to forbid them.


	12. 1879

**1879**

On a particularly rainy April day, Jack was summoned to Lord Bute.

"You're looking well, Captain Harkness," the Marquess said when Jack was sitting before him with a glass of whiskey. They spent several minutes in small talk before he said, "Since I was made aware of your activities, I have been sending reports to Her Majesty. She asked me to continue providing them, which I have done, but she felt no further action was needed."

"I'm honoured that Her Majesty has placed such trust in me," Jack replied, not sure where this was going.

"There was an incident in the moors of Scotland last week," the Marquess continued. "She didn't feel it necessary to give me the details; however, she has requested your presence there." He handed an envelope to Jack. "There are your train tickets; a coach will be waiting for you at the train station. There is apparently some urgency to the matter."

Jack opened the envelope to find the train tickets; the first leg was to start that night. Swallowing, he nodded. "Thank you for your time, Lord Bute. My train leaves tonight; I have quite a bit to do before then."

As he was leaving, the Marquess said, "Safe journeys, Captain, and God bless."

The trip itself was unremarkable. Jack was met at the station by a nondescript carriage which took him to a stately house. A man dressed as a butler met him at the door. "Captain Harkness?" he asked. When Jack confirmed his identity, the man led him to a comfortable-looking guest room and said, "After you have washed off the dust of the road, Lady MacLeish asks that you join her and her guest in the parlour. When you are ready, simply pull the bell rope."

Jack quickly pulled off his clothes and wiped himself down, paying special attention to his hands and face. Then, after dressing in clean clothes, he pulled the bell rope. He couldn't focus enough on the servant to retain any memory of them; he just followed them to the parlour.

"Captain Harkness," a lovely young woman dressed in deep mourning greeted him. "Thank you for coming. May I present Her Majesty, Queen Victoria of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Empress of India and Defender of Faith."

Jack had been telling himself that he shouldn't be awestruck by meeting the nineteenth century queen whose name was still associated with repressed, prim and proper behaviour three thousand years later, but he couldn't help being impressed by her. There was something about her that commanded attention. "Your Majesty," he said, bowing low. "I am here at your request."

"Thank you for responding to my request," the queen said formally. "Lady Isobel, thank you for your assistance. Would you give us some privacy?"

"Of course," the young woman, Lady MacLeish, said as she left the room.

When she was gone, the queen closed the doors. "Please make yourself comfortable, Captain," she said. "This conversation will take some time."

Jack took a chair directly across from Queen Victoria and sat at attention.

"May I ask what military gave you the rank of Captain?" she asked.

Normally, Jack would have either avoided answering the question or spun a yarn that would be difficult to sort out. In this case, though, he suspected honesty was his best bet. "It's not one you would know," he answered. "I'm from a very long way from here."

She looked a little surprised. "Do you mean that you're not of this planet?"

"Er, yes, ma'am," Jack said. "I'm a little surprised that would occur to you."

"Let me explain myself then," the queen said, leaning back in her chair a little. Her tone had gone even colder. "Four weeks ago, I met two people not far from here, a Dr. James McCrimmon and a Miss Rose Tyler." She noted Jack's response and asked, "Do you know them?"

Licking his lips, Jack said, "I knew a Miss Rose Tyler once, a long time ago. I don't believe I've ever met a Dr. McCrimmon."

"I see," she said, her voice still frosty. "I was on my way here to spend the night since a fallen tree had blocked the rails north of Aberdeen. Since Dr. McCrimmon had papers from the Lord Provost indicating that he was appointed my protector, they came with me."

Jack kept himself from reacting only with a great deal of effort, which he suspected the queen had observed. Why the Doctor was using an alias was beyond Jack, he never had in Jack's experience, but there must have been a reason for it. It did sound like the Doctor and Rose. "Was there a problem?" he asked.

"Yes," the queen said. "A werewolf—"

Jack choked. "A what?" Then he remembered who was speaking. "Pardon me, Your Majesty, but there are no such things as . . ." Several different species that could be mistaken for werewolves came to his mind. He shook his head. "Never mind. Please continue."

"A werewolf had taken control of this estate in order to take over my body and begin his own empire." For the first time, Queen Victoria looked uncomfortable. "With the help of the two strangers, we were able to defeat both it and its comrades, although several good men died in the fight, including Sir Robert." She was silent a moment before she continued. "The Doctor and Miss Tyler were instrumental in defeating this threat; however, they were excited and enjoying themselves. It distressed me that anyone could consider such horrors as anything but the horrors they are. I knighted them for their assistance and banished them from the Empire." She was quiet for a moment. "This incident has made me aware of the unimaginable enemies that the Empire has. I am creating an institute to study and fight these enemies, and to guard against the Doctor. Lady Isobel is leaving this estate; I will use it to honour Sir Robert's sacrifice and his father's ingenuity by turning it into the Torchwood Institute."

Jack had heard of the Torchwood Institute, of course; but he'd no idea that it had started this early as a British institution. "That sounds like a fine way to study and fight the enemies of the Empire, Your Majesty. If you need my assistance, it is yours for the asking. However, you do not need to guard against the Doctor." It was hard work not to hold his breath.

"May I ask why not?" Her voice was now icy.

Jack took a minute to put his thoughts into order. "The Doctor is not human," he said carefully. "To judge his responses as human can be seriously misleading."

"You know him," the queen stated.

"I think that's putting it too strongly," Jack said with a sigh. "I was acquainted with him, and I travelled with him for some time. Miss Tyler was with us as well." He thought of how to defend Rose. "She's very young, Your Majesty, and she's a true innocent. However, it may have appeared, she has a kind and generous heart." He looked down at his hands for a moment, remembering the beautiful girl he'd danced with by Big Ben and who he'd kissed good-bye when he thought the Daleks were about to kill him. "She saved my life and my soul. And the Doctor, anything good you see in me comes from him. He took—" Jack decided he'd said enough.

Queen Victoria said nothing for several minutes, but the look she gave Jack felt as if she was able to see everything in his mind. "Why do you no longer travel with him?"

Huffing out a laugh, Jack said, "On my good days, I think he thought I was dead. On my bad ones, that I'd done something unforgivable. One day, I hope to meet him again and ask."

"He left you behind?" she asked, more as confirmation than a question. When Jack nodded, she asked, "And yet you stay loyal to him? Why does he deserve your loyalty?"

"I made a mistake," Jack said, keeping his emotions firmly behind walls. "A mistake that would have destroyed the world, and that's not my being dramatic. He fixed it, and asked for nothing except the joy that everyone lived." Jack could still remember the joy on the Doctor's face, and the happy couple dancing on the TARDIS. "He forced me to see what I'd done, admit it, and work to fix it, but that was it. Just before he left, we were fighting an opponent that was trying to divide us by telling me that he couldn't defeat them without killing me, along with a number of others." He looked the intimidating woman in the face and said, "I told that opponent, 'Never doubted him, never will'. That hasn't changed."

Her expression was less than happy, but the queen asked, "It is my understanding that you have been fighting similar enemies in Cardiff for nearly a decade, using your own money and risking your life. Is this true?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jack said, smiling. "It is perhaps the thing in my life I am most proud of."

"I have also been informed that, on several occasions, it is shocking that you survived wounds you have received, much less appear as healthy as you do."

Lying would be very bad, but would telling the truth be any better? "I'm a little harder to kill than average," Jack said carefully.

"In fact," the queen continued, looking straight at Jack, "you are no more difficult to kill than anyone else. You merely come back." She patted a stack of papers next to her. "I have reports here, internal reports of yours that were obtained for me, that describe multiple deaths, horrific ones, and your recovery."

Swallowing hard, Jack closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes, ma'am, that's true."

"Did the Doctor do this to you?"

"I doubt it," Jack said. "I hope he can tell me how it happened, but I don't think he did it."

"And yet you are still loyal."

"Yes, ma'am."

Looking at him, the queen asked, "Will you give that same loyalty to me?"

Jack stopped breathing for a minute. "Wales, Great Britain, has given me a home when I had nothing. Yes, you have my loyalty, and I will continue to fight to protect my home."

"But you will not fight the Doctor?"

"Not without a much better reason," Jack answered.

"You believe he deserves your loyalty," the queen said. "He seems a very dangerous man to be around, and a careless one."

"He's only dangerous to those who want to hurt others," Jack said, "and he's not a careless man, not at all." With a twisted smile, he admitted, "He is reckless as, well, he is reckless."

"Perhaps he does not create danger," the queen said, looking at the fireplace. "However, he is most certainly a harbinger of it."

Jack couldn't argue that; in fact, he could give far too many examples himself. "I won't argue that. I certainly wouldn't argue that keeping an eye out for the Doctor is a good idea; I will argue that he shouldn't be guarded against. In fact, I could make a very good case that, when we see him around, we should send a team to assist him." Jack thought about that for a minute. "He'd hate it, but it'd probably be a good idea."

"Why Cardiff?" the queen asked after a minute's quiet.

Jack was just relieved not to have to defend the Doctor any more. What had he and Rose been doing to irritate the queen so badly? "There's a rift in time and space that runs through the town," he said. "Things come through it. Most of it's harmless. To be honest, most of it's rubbish, the flotsam and jetsam of the universe. Sometimes, it's something we can use, something good. And sometimes, it's something we have to defend against."

"Those intelligent fish?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah," Jack said with a chuckle. "They're usually more a nuisance than really dangerous, but they do have to be watched."

"You find yourself trapped in this country and, instead of finding somewhere safe to live comfortably, you use your resources to protect my people?" The queen's tone had warmed, at least a little.

"Yes, ma'am," Jack said. "Cardiff has given me a home; protecting her is the least I can do."

"If I were to ask you to expand your protection?"

Oh. Jack had been assuming that he was being asked to consult, or shut down, or leave. "It would be my honour, but I won't pull support out of Cardiff. That Rift is dangerous."

"Captain Harkness," Victoria said, sitting very straight, her voice very formal, "I am creating an institute to study and protect this empire against enemies such as the werewolf I faced a month ago, against any paranormal threats we do not yet understand. It would be a betrayal of my position if I did not consider asking the man who has been doing precisely that for nearly a decade for his service in that fight." Before Jack could say anything, she continued, "After speaking with you, it is clear to me that I would be betraying my people if I did not give the leadership of that institute to the man best suited for it. Captain Harkness, will you accept this charge?"

There was only one possible response. Jack stood at attention and saluted. "Yes, ma'am," making sure the pronunciation was the correct British 'mum'.

Standing equally as straight, Queen Victoria nodded. "Then, Captain Harkness, the Torchwood Institute is yours."


End file.
